Glycerine
by brucasfanatic
Summary: Brooke accidentally slips her typical anti-BL, pro-LP comments to Lucas. She gets a not-so-typical response. BL four Parter
1. Chapter 1

**This is just an idea that's been stuck in my head for the past....two months, or so. Since I suck at multi-chapter fics, I figured I'll just stick to one or two shots until I finish MSL. For those who are frustrated with me, firstly, I'm sorry, and secondly, you don't need to worry about me taking forever to update this fic because it's only going to be two chapters. It was originally a one shot but it went well over the 15000 word mark and I figured most of you would get tired by then. lol It's not my best work but, eh.**

**Anyways, please enjoy and review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill. Besides seasons 1-3, I'm insulted you would think I could write such crap.**

**XX**

**_I needed you more, when you wanted us less. -- Glycerine  
_**

Lucas sighs. Today made it official: someone up there hated him with a passion and never ever, _ever _wanted him to be happy. He'd somehow pissed off some all powerful, vengeful higher authority early on in his life, and had been paying for it for almost half a decade. He gulps another shot of the heaviest liquor he could order and tries to drown away images of an unconscious Peyton lying in the hospital bed he'd left her in hours before. He knew he was being selfish; he should be there with her, willing her and his unborn child to stay alive so they could start their life together. But his fear of losing them keeps him away, and that increases his self-loathing, which makes him drink, which keeps him away.

One pointless, vicious cycle: that's all his life has ever been.

"Vodka tonic." A scratchy voice echoes from behind him. Brooke Davis appears at his side, taking the seat next to him at the bar. She picks up the shot presented to her and downs it in one gulp. "Another." She orders, still not formally acknowledging his presence. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and drowning burning liquor with each passing moment.

Brooke sighs. And Lucas knows she's gotten tired of waiting for him to speak.

"So, Peyton called from the hospital," was her way of greeting. Lucas doesn't seem to hear her. He slams his empty cup back on the counter.

"Hit me." He says, sliding the empty cup towards the bartender for the 12th time that night. Brooke sighs and looks around the dimly lit bar they currently occupied.

"Why this place?" she asks after a few minutes, Lucas twists his head to the side, never really looking at her.

"_Tric_ is her place." He says pointedly, shrugging as he waits to be served.

"Of course." She doesn't push it further. It was probably a coincidence that out of all the bars in Tree Hill he ends up in the one where they had their first date. It looked exactly the same as it did in their 11th grade, she realizes. A smile sneaks on her lips and she looks at her friend playfully.

"Tell me you used your Henry I.D.?"

Lucas snorts out the sip of beer he'd just drunk. "Oh, man…I haven't used that ID in what? Almost 2 years now?"

Brooke giggles, a look of surprise on her features. "You still have it?" Lucas nods.

"Used it every time I needed to get into a club. I even used it on the eve of my 21st birthday, just for kicks." Brooke laughs and he smiles, they lock eyes for a moment and Lucas almost forgets all his worries and pain. _Almost_.

Her eyes twinkle in delight. She holds up a finger, signaling him to wait before she bends down and takes something out of her purse seated on the bench next to her.

A moment later she holds up her accompanying fake I.D., identifying one 21 year old Italian-born _Gretchen_. Lucas takes a sip of his beer and holds in his laughter. He looks so much like his 16 year old self that Brooke struggles to curb her shocked gasps.

With a wide grin on his face, he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her Henry's I.D. Brooke gasps and grabs it from his hands to take a better look, as though not believing her eyes.

"I can't believe you keep this with you!"

"'Course I do. I had good times with that card." She smiles widely at him and nods.

"Who thought this is where we'd end up, huh?" She giggles absentmindedly. "Me the designer of a multi-million dollar line, you a husband and father to be." She smiles at the card fondly, reminiscing about the times of old where life was just so much easier. She looks up just in time to catch Lucas' smile fall, his entire demeanor change. His body slumps over the bar and he's gulping his beer so fast that it doesn't look like he's taking the time to breathe. Brooke sighs and slides the card back over to him. She puts her card back in the same compartment of her wallet she's always kept it in. She orders herself a drink and they're engulfed in silence.

She's waiting for him to start the conversation again, he realizes. He sees her fidget out of the corner of his eyes and it almost makes him smirk. Patience has never been her strong point.

"So..." she bites her lips and frowns, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. The bartender serves him another drink, and by that time she'd lost count of how many he'd had. She declines another drink. One of them needs to be sober to get through this.

"Julian left for Las Vegas," is what she manages to get out. Immediately, she cringes. Here's a guy who is living the very real possibility of losing the love of his life and his first child, and the only thing she can do is complain to him over losing a guy that she'd barely known for a month. _How self-centred can you get?_

"I'm sorry." She looks up and is shocked to find him facing her, eyes full of sympathy and understanding. The new order of hard liquor stands forgotten.

Immediately, she relaxes. Her eyes soften and she smiles a small smile in thanks before looking back at her fiddling thumbs. She shrugs slightly, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay," she says softly. Lucas knows it isn't. "Besides, how tacky would it be if the two left-overs of the Lucas and Peyton love saga hooked up?" she laughs, but immediately stops at Lucas' hard look. In a moment, he looks away, almost ashamed. He picks up his forgotten drink.

"No. Come on, let's just get you home." As gentle as her voice, she puts her hands under his arm and nudges him off his seat. He could easily deflect her, could push her away with the simple shrug of his shoulders, but he allows himself to be guided by her.

**B&L**

Brooke stumbles under Lucas' weight. He's really not as drunk as he'd like to be, but he's just so emotionally exhausted to keep himself up. So he does what he's always done, and leans on her for support. As always, she lets him.

They struggle to get through his back door. She hasn't done this in years, but she still knew the tricks to getting the locks to his door while...severely distracted.

"Okay, Scott." She grunts as she shoves him off of her and onto the bed. She doesn't bother being gentle, as her back was _killing_ her from the walk from the bar.

"I'll go make you some coffee."

She leaves him lying on his bed, face turned upwards, staring at the white ceiling. His eyesight is blurred, his head is aching, and yet, he welcomes the feeling. It distracts him from the overwhelming fear that's gripped his heart as soon as the doctor told him the dangers of the pregnancy. He welcomes the pain at the expense of the thought of losing his unborn child, who he already loves _so _much. He basks in the dizziness, the confusion, instead of thinking of the possibility of once again losing a chance to have the family he so desperately craves; once again having his heart broken as it has so many times. And if that happens....if _this _didn't work—he knows he won't make it.

Brooke returns and hands him a cup of coffee. He starts to bring it to his mouth, when she notices his hesitation to take a sip. She smirks.

"Don't worry. Instructions were on the back." He laughs and takes a sip. It isn't bad, but he cringes in disgust for show. She swats him.

"Oh shut up. I'm a fashion designer not a fricken office assistant," she grumbles. Lucas smiles at her. They stay quiet for a little while longer, each sipping the hot coffee that was so bitter it killed his buzz. Lucas idly wonders how Brooke had managed to keep quiet for so long tonight. If he knew her at all, he was sure that she had a million questions bubbling in her over-imaginative head, bursting to spill. He counts the minutes tick by as he watches her try to hold herself together. She refused to look at him; pretending to admire his room and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling at him. She doesn't want to push him, he realizes. Brooke's always been about letting people come to her at their own pace. It's the way she liked it, and she gave everyone else the same courtesy.

She looks around his room, realizing how much it's changed since high school until her eyes land on a picture of him, Nathan, Haley and Jamie gathered together on the beach enjoying the sun. Jamie was just two at the time. He watches her eyes soften at the bright smiles that graced their faces, captured forever in the photograph. She looks angelic, maternal—like she could heal all wounds with a simple touch. It reminds Lucas of the time she told him she wanted to have a baby. He'd been so shocked then, scared even. The idea of Brooke having a baby alone, without someone beside her—w_ithout him, _his subconscious stubbornly supplies—it wasn't right. Of course, he wasn't thinking about Brooke _that_ way anymore. Their ship had sailed long ago. _More like sank_, he thinks, _after failing to survive a fucking tidal wave on rocky waters that lead them over a water fall. _He pulls back from bitter thoughts to concentrate on her longing features. She picks up the picture and looks down at it; her eyes almost tear up as she slides her fingers across Jamie's beaming smile.

"I should have been here then," she says absentmindedly. And Lucas is sure she forgot he was even in the room.

"What?" Her startled expression confirms his suspicious. Immediately, she looks away and frowns, eyes darting around the room in a way that tells him she's trying to think of a distraction.

"I bet you're excited for little Leyton baby." She suddenly smiles up at him, but the look in his eyes tells her that it was definitely _not_ what she should have said. He forgets the curiosity he had for what she said only seconds ago in favour of the depression that overwhelms him. He turns away from her, ignoring her, busying himself with useless tasks; like rearranging his already tidy desk. He picks up his pencil cup and places it back down; restacks his books and papers. Deciding to wait him out, Brooke leans on his wall, looking at the framed certificate of literary excellence hanging on his wall. However, when his stubborn silence outlasts her store of patience, she decides to jump in.

"Lucas. We have to talk about this." He ignores her, making a point to keep his back to her and hoping to God that she'll just leave. But even as he sends the prayer, he knows that it's a useless venture. Brooke never backed down of something she set her mind to. Still, he _hopes…_

"You know that I could talk to your back all night if I have to."

He clenches his teeth. A higher power definitely hated him. He silently curses her stubbornness. It's the one thing he could honestly say was predictable about Brooke Davis.

"There's nothing to talk about, Brooke."

"Sure there is." Her voice is light; he half expects her to pull out a magazine and talk to him about the latest celebrity gossip. "Your fiancé is in the hospital fighting for her life and your unborn child's and you're trying to drink your ass to death."

He turns sharply and glares at her. _How dare she?_ Brooke has the decency to look apologetic, but he couldn't get past the bitterness that slipped out in her words.

"Get the fuck out, Brooke," he says through clenched teeth. Brooke however doesn't move.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that…" she sighs. What _had_ she meant, then? She's been worried for Peyton the entire night and seeing Lucas at the bar instead of by her bedside just made her _so_ angry.

"Lucas, you should go comfort her…"

"I can't, Brooke." He sounds so defeated that Brooke actually backs down for a moment.

"She needs you right now. And your baby—"

"NO! Okay? I can't fucking do this right now!" He combs shaky fingers through his hair. "This isn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to be how it goes. I _finally_ chose her. Everyone kept telling me that once I chose her it would all be alright. This _isn't_ supposed to happen!" He doesn't seem to be talking to her anymore, just blabbing on to himself, trying to reason his way through the obvious panic attack that so intensely washed over him.

Suddenly, he picks up his pencil cup and whips it across the room. It breaks on impact, producing an echoing snapping sound that makes Brooke jump in alarm.

"Lucas!"

"She was supposed to be perfect!" His eyes fill up with tears that won't fall. "You were _too_ **hard**. A-a-an' Lindsey, Lindsey was too easy but Peyton—she, she was supposed to be just right and I-I—"

Brooke decides to ignore the _Three Bears_ metaphor in favour of calming him down.

"Lucas." She takes three giant steps towards him and puts both hands on his shoulders. "Lucas, look at me." His eyes connect with hers, and they're so lost and afraid that she almost breaks down right then. "They're gonna be okay," she whispers, and she's not sure if she's trying to convince him or herself.

"But this is too hard, Brooke," he whispers; broken. "I'm _tired_. I'm so fucking tired of having to fight all the time. Lindsey left, an—even _she_ said that Peyton was it for me. Even _**you**_…an-and I've gotten _no_where."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Don't say that."

"Why the hell not?" He's glaring at her, and she's too stunned to say anything. "You heard what the doctors said, Brooke. Peyton's got a high chance of dying along with the baby. She won't listen to me about terminating the pregnancy, and—" he wonders if he should tell her what's been plaguing him all this time. Wonders, if telling her will make her see him as the monster he knows he is. There is no excuse for the way he's feelings—hell, there's no excuse for the way he's _acting _right now. He _should _be there, by Peyton's side. He should fight her harder to save herself...he _should_, and Brooke is going to hate him when she finds out the truth.

Yet...the look in her eyes is understanding, urging him to open up, to let her save him.

"And," he continues, "A part of me…is glad she doesn't." He whispers this so softly that even with their bodies so close, Brooke almost misses it. Her eyes immediately soften.

"Lucas. Hey." She takes hold of his face and makes him look at her. "It'll be alright. It will." And her sympathetic tone makes him finally break down.

"But what if they're not, Brooke?" His voice cracks, and his eyes plead for an answer that she cannot give. "What am I supposed to do if they're not? When will I ever just be happy?" He looks so much like a beat up child at that moment that all she wants to do with hug him and rock him to sleep. And that's exactly what she does.

"Come here," she says softly as she directs him to his bed and lies beside him.

"I'm just so scared." He mumbles from the crook of her neck, ever the child. "I don't want to be alone."

"I know." She tightens the hold on him and whispers soothing reassurance to calm him. "It'll be okay," she whispers. "It's going to be okay."

She prays that she's right.

**B&L**

Lucas digs his head into his pillow, trying to drown out the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen. His hang over supplies the accompanying percussion and the sound of his alarm blast away the emptiness with an array of bass instruments. Trumpets, saxophones, trombones—each like hammering nails into his painfully groggy skull.

Insistent vibrations tickle his stomach and he reaches to grab his cell phone, answering without checking the caller I.D.

"Hello." He mumbles into the pillow.

"Lucas?" It's Peyton. He pushes himself up in a rush, and groans at the protests his head makes at the sudden movement.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about you though? Are you out of the hospital?"

"No. The doctor still wants to monitor me for the day before he discharges me."

Lucas takes a deep breath. There's an awkward silence.

"Look, Peyton…"

"No, Lucas, I understand. I'm not mad; I know how hard it is to wait. I'm just—I wanted to see if you were okay?"

Lucas sighs, feeling even more like shit than when he woke up.

"No, Peyton. It's not okay. I'm so sorry for leaving you like I did. I'll be there as soon as I can."

There's a short silence on the other line. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"No." He suddenly realizes what the sizzling he could still hear was. _Brooke _was cooking breakfast.

"And I don't think I will, today." He hears his fiancé chuckle on the other end.

"Don't be silly. I spoke to B. this morning. I know she's making you food. Don't be unappreciative, Luke."

"Okay _mom_." She laughs.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you, Lucas."

"Love you, too." Hanging up, Lucas takes a moment to calm his wayward nerves. The guilt refuses to leave him, and the fear has increased with the knowledge that the doctors kept her for observation. He collects his bearings and forces himself off the bed. He needs to stop running away, he tells himself.

**B&L**

"Since when do you cook?" Brooke turns and gives him a smile. He looks refreshed, having just stepped out of the shower—much better than his drunken depression the night before.

"Morning, handsome! I made you breakfast!" she seems so excited to be giving him food that any thoughts of going to the café leave his mind…even if eating her food _is_ likely to end up killing him.

She places their plates on the table, filled with expertly cooked omelets and crisped bacon. He blinks at the food in shock.

"What?" He looks up and catches her eyes, completely bewildered.

"This looks edible."

Brooke huffs, hands resting on her hips in the most defiant image her 5 ft 5 frame could muster.

"I'll have you _know_, Mr. I'm-too-much-of-an-unappreciative-ass-to-say-thank-you, that I have learned how to cook various dishes in my time in New York."

"Oh really?" He forces himself not to laugh at how personally she takes his teasing.

"Yes," she says seriously. "And if you don't like it, then by all means, **starve**!" She twirls away from him and sets on preparing her own breakfast. Lucas laughs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look," she turns around and watches him take a bite off his omelet. "See?" He says after audibly swallowing. "Delicious!"

"Mm-hm." She gives him a dry look, making him laugh once again, before joining him at the table.

For a few moments, they eat in silence, enjoying the comfortable peace that surrounds them. After a while, Lucas starts to think back to their night before. He doesn't remember too much of when they got home, but he does remember the bar.

"So, we never did talk about Julian leaving…" Brooke gives him a look.

"We didn't talk about much of anything." Lucas shrugs and goes back to eating. The air is filled with silent tension, and it doesn't take long before Brooke breaks.

"It's really not a big deal," she says and glares at his knowing smile. "We both knew it would be too weird. Especially being footnotes in the Lucas&Peyton love story." She said it with such ease and conviction that Lucas almost missed it.

"_What_?" he twists his head so fast he's sure he'll get whip lash; the hangover that was slowly fading coming back in full force. But he makes himself concentrate.

"What, what?" She reaches over the table and snatches a piece of bacon off his plate, already having devoured hers. Lucas is too stunned to even try to stop her.

"What'd you just say?" Brooke gives him a weird look, but decides to humor him. Tilting her head in classic "thinking Brooke Davis" fashion, she thinks back to their conversation.

"What? The footnote thing?" His horrified look sends her into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, Lucas, relax. I'm totally over it."

Lucas Scott, for all his metaphorical stagger and tact, could do nothing but squint.

"Dude…seriously, it's _okay_."

"Tell me you're joking."

She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and stays silent. She cocks her head to the side, her eyes belaying her confusion.

"Brooke…" He reaches across the table and takes her hands in his. Instinctively, she begins to tug it away, but the look in his eyes makes her stop. They're ashamed; almost…regretful.

"Why would you think that?"

Brooke blinks. _Why does he sound so sad?_ "Umm…because it's true?"

"But…" he struggles to speak. "After everything?"

His eyes glisten with tears. And she doesn't understand. Everyone else agrees; everyone else seemed to go along with it. It was the town's own inside joke. Why was he making it such a big deal? _Why_ was he making this _matter_?

Sitting up straight, she pulls her hands from beneath his, immediately missing their warmth.

"You are getting way too worked up over this." she gives him her signature Brooke Davis grin. "You and I both know that we were just a road block in your path to find true love with Peyton." He tenses—she doesn't seem to notice. "I made peace with it way back in high school. It's okay, really."

But it's not okay. "Stop saying that."

"Saying what?" _Does she really not get it?_

Lucas suddenly jumps from his seat and paces the kitchen. He has no idea why this is getting to him so much. But hearing her say that, that their relationship meant _nothing_? It was wrong. _Just—_

"Brooke, I don't know who's been feeding you that crap, but it needs to stop." He suddenly feels so disoriented and confused that he has to sit back down. He looks up at her to see her eye him wearily.

"Lucas…are you still drunk?"

"You weren't just a footnote, Brooke," he finally sighs, ignoring her attempt at humor. Brooke shifts in her seat. He doesn't understand why this is making her uncomfortable.

"Of course I wa—"

"No. You weren't."His tone is final, and any protests die on her lips. She's quiet as he gets up from the table, stiff as a board, and heads towards the front door.

"Why does this matter, Luke?" Her curiosity interrupts him. If she had just held on, he would have been out the door, and she would have gone on to believe whatever she wanted.

Lucas rests his forehead on the door and takes a deep breath. Why does it matter? Such a simple question deserves an equally efficient answer. But as he takes his time to sort through all the emotions and thoughts swarming over him; memories he thought repressed long ago, he realizes that he could never give her the answer she deserves.

"It matters because it's a lie, Brooke," he mumbles more to himself. He wishes that she'd believe him and let this go, but when has Brooke ever trusted his words?

"It's not a lie."Her voice is low, scared—but forceful nonetheless. She wants him to agree with her. She _needs_ him to look at her and tell her with all conviction that what she was saying was true; that their time together was nothing. That he was happy, and thankful, that she had let him go—that she was right, and she really did hold him back from happiness.

Lucas remains silent, his head still resting on the wooden door. Brooke takes this as encouragement for her to continue. She doesn't see his hands wrap around the door handle in a death grip, his knuckles white from the strain.

"Lucas, we have to realize it for what it is. We didn't have any real feelings for each other," she'd said this so many times in the past, she's numb from the pain. "You were in denial of your feelings to Peyton. We were just a source of high school drama, that's all."

Lucas reels towards her, suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her and shake some sense back into her.

"I was in _denial_? What the fuck is it with this town and their obsession with telling me what I feel?! I pine for you, I secretly love Peyton; I marry Lindsey—It's secretly Peyton I want. What the FUCK made everyone else the expert on _my __**life**_?!"

"Why are you so angry?" She really doesn't understand this. _Has the guy even read his own book?_

He doesn't seem to hear her. He just continues on with his tantrum, still stunned over what she was saying.

"I fought for you. I pined for you for almost an entire year. _Why_ would I do that if you were nothing more to me than an escape route? Huh, Brooke? Rationalize that with your ridiculous logic."

He stares at her, daring her to come up with a rebuttal. But she doesn't have one. It's always been easier to just ignore those facts.

"Look...that doesn't matter right now. We were young and immature. Now that we're older we know what we want for our lives better. And, Lucas, what you want—what you've always wanted—is Peyton. We all know she's been your dream since grade school and it's useless for any of us to try and get in the way."

Lucas closes his eyes, and runs frustrated hands through his hair. She did it again. In typical, Brooke Davis fashion, she'd expertly avoided answering the question while still remaining on topic.

Brooke walks up and lightly places a hand on his heaving shoulder.

"Even back then, when we were together, I've always known the truth. I didn't want to believe it, and for whatever reason, neither did you, but deep down I knew where your heart was. It's why I was so insecure." She pauses to catch her breath. Even though she said this slow, softly, it took the air right out of her as though she'd run a marathon. Lucas stays silent, looking at her with an unreadable expression. "It wasn't until you went away after Keith's death that I had time to think things over and realize the truth. And when Peyton told me that she still loved you, well...I decided to stop getting in the way of the inevitable." His eyes flicker with a hidden emotion, and she takes it as acceptance.

She lowers his hands from his shoulders, now calm with his steady breathing, and smiles up at him. She would have preferred him to say something—maybe apologize for making this such a big deal, and then confirm her speech, but she takes the silence as a blessing.

"So, you going to go see Peyton now?" she goes to clear the table, glad that they got that over with, letting him go comfort his loved ones.

"She told you she loved me while we were still together?"

Brooke blinks, startled at this turn of events. Just like that, the peace, the understanding—it was gone.

"Uuh…" Really, what could she say? It was years ago. Ancient history for most. She wanted to confirm it but the way he said it—it was so accusatory. As though he was pinning everything on that one event. And though she had done the same thing in her naïve 18 year old mind, she knew better now.

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is, you two are together, like you should be."

He doesn't seem to hear her. "Is that why you broke up with me?"

Brooke groans and puts her hands on her face.

"Lucas, you're acting like a child."

He knows this, but he can't help but push her. "Just answer me."

Brooke sighs in defeat. "No—well, it was the catalyst. It also had to do with our lack of communication and my insecurities and the fact that you were never there for me." Brooke can't help but let a little bitterness slip through. If he was going to act like a spoiled teenager then _she_ was going to as well.

"Wasn't there for…" He trails off, looking dumbfounded. In a beat, he's laughing; a loud, barking laughter, causing Brooke to jump back in shock.

"This is so typical." A second—and his laughter is gone; replaced with an almost pleading look. "Brooke, I don't know how much I have to tell you this, but I would be there for you if you _needed_ me."

She exhaled, deeply. She felt as though the wind was just knocked out of her. Images of fists and screams and blood flood her inner eye; memories of pleads for mercy and a savior echo in the back of her mind. And just like before, her pleading goes unnoticed. As always, her screams of pain are drowned out by the darkness of the night, without a soul to hear them, no one to care.

She locks eyes with Lucas. _I just wish you could save me...I promise._ Her eyes grow cold.

Lucas' squints as he sees the shifts of emotions flash through her eyes. He could have sworn he'd seen fear in there somewhere—but in an instant, it was gone. Replaced with a frigid wall that he couldn't describe. His eyes widen in realization.

"Is something going on, Brooke?" That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Because as soon as the words left his mouth her empty expression turned into one of disgust. She scowls at him.

"I can't do this." she says out of nowhere. She walks away from him, and he jumps to stop her.

"Brooke! Wait!" He grabs her arm and she flinches away. He immediately drops it, worried that he'd hurt her—though he hadn't grabbed her that hard at all.

"Brooke..." She refuses to face him, doesn't do anything, really. Her head is held high, her back is straight, shoulders are tense—but her eyes...they were lifeless.

"Brooke, if there is something going on with you, you need to tell me. Whatever you need, I will be there fo--"

She didn't even realize what she was doing. The sound of skin smacking skin was her only indication that she had just slapped him. Through tearless eyes she glares at him and wills him to disappear with _every _**fiber** of her being.

"Do not lie to me you son of a bitch!" The intensity of her accusations causes Lucas to retreat away from her. He can't even speak—can't think as he sees her eyes burn with hatred.

_Hatred._

"Wha--" She hits him again—and he wonders what she's done to be able to pack such a powerful punch.

"You didn't even blink. You didn't even bat an eye when you saw me at the funeral. You did _nothing_." She lost her breath in that last word.

"Brooke...what are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know!" Her throat aches from the intensity of her screams, but as she stares into Lucas' bewildered gaze, she can't bring herself to care.

Lucas backs away, his mind furiously working to remember what the hell had gotten her so angry with him. Suddenly, a memory forces its way into the forefront.

"_Hey Luke?" he turned his attention to his fiancé._

"_Listen, before we go, I just want you to know that Brooke is coming an—"_

_Lucas smiled. "I'm glad. We need someone to comfort Jamie. Haley has her handful with Nathan and I…" Peyton put a hand on him._

"_I know. But, Brooke...she got hurt yesterday. She fell down the stairs."_

"_What? Is…Is she alright?" His breathing suddenly became labored. He did __**not**__ need to hear this right now._

"_She's okay! She's okay. It's just that…her bruises…they look really bad and...I think she's hiding something from me. But she's not ready to talk about it, so…I'm just asking you to stay clear of her for a bit. She doesn't like to be hovered over." Lucas didn't seem to acknowledge her request._

"_What do you think she's hiding?"_

"_I don't know." She smiled. "You know how Brooke is; never really talks until she's good and ready." _

_He frowned. That's the problem. "But Peyton, we do know how she is. Most of the time, she's __**never **__good and ready." He said this as seriously as he could, but Peyton still smiled at her friend's stubbornness._

"_I know." She sighed. "I think it's about Angie. She says that it didn't bother her but I think it really upset her that we weren't there so close after she lost Angie."_

_Lucas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hadn't even thought of that. At the time, he just wanted his heart ache to be over. He wanted to be with someone and not have all the drama and heartbreak that came with it. But Brooke…_

"_Seriously, Lucas. Don't push her, or make her feel weak. Today is stressful enough as it is. Let her come to us."_

_Lucas clenched his fists, but nodded at his fiancé. He couldn't shake the feeling of doubt in him, but Peyton was right._

_Brooke was ridiculously independent._

He's brought back from his memory by another forceful shove from the angry brunette. He looks into her tearful eyes and his heart breaks at the pain he sees within them.

"Brooke...is...is this about Angie?"

Brooke takes a step back, her breathing hitches as realization dawns on her.

"You really have no clue." If possible, her voice sounded _more _accusatory. _He didn't know, _she realized. He hasn't even cared enough to _ask _about her. It wasn't just that he was consumed by his own drama and tragedies in his life—it's that she just didn't matter enough for him to even notice.

In that moment, all the anger, all the mixed emotions died within her. She looks up at Lucas with a steady gaze.

"I don't think you've ever done anything more to prove how worthless I am to you than this." Lucas gasps, partly from the sudden change in her emotions—she was calm, steady, cold--but mostly from her words. _What the hell did he say?_

"What? How'd I--" He can't find the words. Always, with Brooke, he can _never _find the right words.

"Go to hell, Lucas." and before he can stop her, she's out the door.

**Ps. I hate Mark. Love you all. And BL, obviously.**


	2. Hurt

My goodness, Mark left soooooooooooooooo many things untouched in the BL relationship! I wrote the entire chapter and it just kept going as I added stuff....and so, there'll be one more coming up. So this fic is going to be a three parter. This chapter is actually the shortest, but I think it's best if I break it off here.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU to all those who reviewed my first chapter! I'm glad you all loved it so much. I especially would like to thank all of you who took the time to discuss my writing style. I absolutley love to write and it's good to know that my ability isn't as convoluted as I think. lol

This chapter is dedicated to my regular readers (whom I love, adore, and am shocked to have). Aren't you proud of me for getting this out in 3 months? *smiles* I always feel that my second chapters never do justice to my first....but anyways, hopefully this was worth the wait. And if it's not, well, why do you think it took me so long to get it out? I should've revised it longer...anyhoo.

Please **_review_**!

**Lucas may seem OOC in this chapter. He's drunk.**  
**Italics are thoughts. Bolded Italics are memories.  
**

**B&L**

Peyton walks into her new home, trying to smother the feelings of dejection that swirl through her. Lucas hadn't come to check on her like he promised. She'd tried calling him all day but he wouldn't answer.

The lights are off and she wonders if he's even home. She sees a faint glow from the kitchen and walks towards it, finding him slumped on the table, a bottle of vodka gripped tightly in his hand.

"Oh, baby." She rushes towards him and immediately envelops him in her arms. "Shh…shh, it's okay. I'm fine. The baby and I are fine." She continues to whisper soothing words to him, rocking them back and forth trying to get him to come out of his stupor. It took almost 15 minutes before Lucas moved on his own accord. He places shaking hands on Peyton's stomach, eyes lost and blurry from the alcohol.

"Are you and the baby okay?" he sounds like a lost child, calling on Peyton's maternal instincts.

"We're fine, babes. The doctor said we're gonna be okay." It's a lie. The doctor once again strongly cautioned Peyton from carrying on with the pregnancy, but she couldn't tell Lucas that now.

He nods solemnly, his fear finally being put to rest, easing the ache in his chest.

"So let me guess, you got food poisoning from Brooke's breakfast and couldn't get yourself out of bed for the rest of the day?" she laughs, missing Lucas' frown.

"We…we had a fight." Her laughter stops abruptly.

"About what?"

"Everything, really…me not being there for you and the baby…" he sighs, if he was sober, he probably wouldn't bring this up. "She thinks she didn't mean anything, Peyton." His fiancé frowns; he sounds so broken. "She called us a fucking footnote."

Peyton blinks at him, confused. "Yeah, Lucas. You two were young and confused, she gets it now."

For a moment, Lucas squints at her, not completely understanding her, but still somehow bothered by her words. Seconds passed as his mind clicked and his brain made sense of what she was saying.

"You knew?" he whispers, before his voice suddenly blares. "You _knew_ she felt that way?" Peyton steps back, momentarily shocked by his accusing tone.

"Lucas…" she flops her mouth open like a fish out of water, wondering where this anger was coming from. His blurry eyes glare up at her from his seat.

"Well, yeah…she mentioned it a few times last month when she was comforting me about you and Lindsey…it was just her way of reassuring me that no matter who you're with, we'd always end up together in the end."

_"People who are meant to be together always find their way in the end."_

Lucas shakes his head furiously, trying to rid himself of the memory. He'd accepted long ago that Brooke's words that night had been a lie. People who were meant to be together **_never_** found their way. Dan and Karen didn't stay together. Keith and his mom didn't find their way, _twice_. Haley and Nathan almost didn't make it through their first year of marriage, and when they did a part of him still waited patiently for their eventual break up. He and Brooke didn't last no matter how hard he'd fought. He'd tried to hold on to Peyton, when he felt her slipping away as well only 6 months after their reunion—yet that had gone to shit. And when he tried moving on with Lindsey, tried committing and once again hoping to believe in the words the brunette cheerleader had uttered so many nights ago, he _still_ ended up alone.

He looks up at Peyton, wondering how long it will be before they fall apart as well. _She's going to die,_ the nagging voice in his head chants, prompting Lucas to take another swig of his vodka.

Peyton eyes him wearily, his sullen silence worrying her beyond belief. He was clearly shaken up over this. "Look, Brooke knows we're not in high school anymore. She knows that we were always meant to be together and she's sorry for ever tying to get in the way." _Which means what we did was okay. _She and Lucas were always meant to be, she didn't have to feel guilty anymore.

Lucas laughs, the sound hollow to Peyton's ears.

"She wasn't the one that kept getting in the way." He bites out before noting the look of pain that crosses her features, and the first ounce of guilt sinks in. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." _He did._ "But, she wasn't a footnote, Peyton." His tone left no room for argument, yet his fiancé pushed on.

"Of course she was." She insists, blinking back tears. "And so was Lindsey; Just like Julian was, for me." She needs him to agree with her. Needs him to smile and reassure her that his heart has always been with her, and that the impromptu and sudden proposal was okay because he'd been planning it secretly for years. She needed to believe his book; that all the years he spent longing for someone else, being with someone else was his way of hiding from his true feelings. She needs him to reassure her that it was she he always wanted in his life, like the day they won the state championship.

"I'm sure what you had with them was real," she continues. "It just wasn't....love."

"Like with you and Jake?" The mention of her high school sweet heart surprises Peyton. She hasn't thought about him in months. She could never consider Jake a rebound; he had been her true love, once. The fact that Lucas is comparing him to Brooke makes her uneasy.

"Is this about what happened?" she asks quietly, ignoring his insinuation. Lucas looks up at her with questioning eyes.

"I know how hard it is to think that Brooke was hurt. But that was five months ago, Lucas. She's fine. And he's in jail now." Lucas continues to stare at her with a bewildered gaze.

"You don't have to feel guilty." This must be where all this anger was coming from. Lucas believed he had to save everyone he cared about. It's one of the reasons she loved him so much. But…Peyton liked him saving her. She couldn't help it; he was the love of her life, she was his; it was what connected them. He'd always been there for her, every step of the way no matter who he was with. It was his way of proclaiming his love for her over and over again. She only wanted him to save her, no one else—not Brooke. It's not that she didn't want Brooke to be saved; just…by someone else _other_ than Lucas. Once Brooke found her own savior then she can be as happy as Peyton.

Lucas repeats her words in his head, trying to figure out their meaning through his aching migrane. What happened five months ago? Angie? Why would he feel guilty? _Because you weren't there._

"Are you talking about Angie?" he asks, confused. Peyton gasps and takes a step back. _She didn't tell him?_

Lucas notes Peyton's shock. _"He's in jail now." _His frown deepens into a scowl.

"Who's in jail, Peyton?"

The blond closes her eyes and sighs. There's no point in lying. "John Daniels."

"The guy who shot Quinton? Wha—what does he have to do with this?"

Peyton bites her lips, wondering if her friend would want her to say anything.

"He…hurt Brooke." Lucas doesn't seem to react. He stares at her in a long silence, his face completely void of emotion.

"What?" His voice is calm, cold.

"He hurt—"

"What do you mean by _hurt_?" His voice is accusing—deadly, sending chills down her spine.

Peyton closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, preparing for an onslaught she knew was coming.

"The night you proposed to me…the night Brooke gave up Angie there was a—break in."

Lucas' mind seems to fill with fog. A fog so dense that nothing seems to be able to get through; nothing makes any sense.

"A break in? What do you mean a break in? Where?"

"At...at the store."

The fog thickens. "What store?" Peyton doesn't answer.

The silence seems to be just what Lucas needs to understand. Most still didn't made sense. The details, Peyton's solemn replies seemed to defy all logic, nothing fit. Nothing, except for something about Brooke being hurt.

"I have to go to her." He dashes towards the door.

"What?! No—Lucas, sit down! It's 2 in the fucking morning!" He stops at the door and looks up at her, his eyes are lost, and scared, and disbelieving.

"Luke..." she says softly, reaching a hand out to comfort him.

"Brooke was hurt?" even to his own ears, he sounds pitiful. Like a child asking for an answer he's afraid of hearing.

Peyton pulls back, not really understanding what she's feeling. She's glad Lucas cared so much for her best friend, she is, but...he hasn't even asked about _her _yet.

"She was hurt." she confirms, softly, trying to let the news sink in.

Lucas stares at her for a moment before suddenly standing up right and vigorously shaking his head.

"No."

"Lucas..."

"No, see—you're wrong. Brooke doesn't get hurt." No. Peyton has to be mistaken. He would have noticed if Brooke was in pain. That's just who he is. He sees people's pain and he rescues them. Just like he did with Peyton, just like he's done so many times for Haley. And Nathan; and Dan. There was _no way _he wouldn't have noticed. "I would have known if she was hurt. I—she would have told me...." he trails off and frowns. Flashes of Brooke's bruised body enter his mind, eyes of sadness haunted him as he kept his distance. He thought she was mad at him; thought that she wouldn't forgive him for leaving so soon after Angie. He spent nights knowing that he'd ruined the fragile friendship he'd had with her.

She wouldn't have come to him. She wouldn't have come to him even when she was in pain.

Suddenly, it's hard to breathe.

Lucas places a hand on his chest, where his heart is suddenly so heavy and pained that he could no longer stand up straight. The pinching grows stronger as his chest beats more erratically. _Did he take his heart medicine today? _He shuts his eyes tightly to fight off the chaos swirling around in his head and sinks to the ground, hand still on his chest.

"Lucas!" His fiancé rushes over to him in a wave of panic, and in the back of his mind he acknowledges her worried pleads and desperate eyes, but his agonizing thoughts drowned everything out except one fact:

Brooke was hurt. He shakes his head, trying to fight through the migraine that only seemed to be getting worse the more breaths he took.

_Brooke _was hurt. He can't make himself believe it. It doesn't make any sense.

**_"You cannot see the dress before the wedding!" She practically threw herself in front of the mannequin. He smiled at her fierceness._**

Brooke, his Cheery, his pretty girl, his first love, was _hurt_.

**_"Lucas, write the movie the way _**_you **see the story." **_

He lets out a shaky breath. His heart is beating at an impossible pace. He just wants it to stop.

_Why wasn't he there?_

**_He watched them through the window of the cafe-turned-fashion boutique. That girl Sam was propped up on the counter, Haley and Brooke standing at each side. He knew he should go and formally introduce himself to Sam, but something kept him away. He noticed Brooke wasn't paying attention to the conversation between the other girls. Haley waved her hands in front of her face to catch her attention. Brooke said something that he was sure was witty or sarcastic or cute. They all laughed._**

His breathing is heavier, there's not enough oxygen in the room.

_How could he not have seen it?_

**_"What happened to our sign?" He didn't specify who he meant by 'our'._**  
**_Brooke shrugged. "It didn't fit my new dominatrix inspired fashion line." Lucas eyebrows shot up. Brooke smirked and winked. Later on he'd seen her looking out the window, alone. She looked—sad, his instinct screamed—thoughtful._**

Brooke was...

Realization struck like a thousand blades through his skull, effectively clearing the fog and making way for an emotion he's only ever felt once before.

_I just wish you could save me.  
Okay, if you promise to save me back.  
I promise._

She'd saved him. That much was for sure. She'd been there for him through thick and thin throughout these past five years, helping him move on after Peyton, encouraging him to stick to his book and follow his dreams and get published; she'd comforted him about Lindsey; let him confide in her about his confused feelings. In the last five years she'd made him laugh, think, believe, hope.

Had he saved her back?

He'd helped her with Angie. He was the first person she'd trusted enough to confess about her dream to have a child. He still held it as a source of pride that she'd come to him out of all people. Not Haley, not even _Peyton_. And he'd been there, every step of the way—except the end.

She'd said she was fine. She looked him straight in the eyes and told him she'd be alright. Her back was straight, her eyes were soft, her voice was confident. And he'd believed her. He believed she was okay.

**_"Oh my gosh, Brooke, what happened?" Haley asked the moment Brooke showed up at the funeral.  
She smiled, embarrassed. "Silly me, I fell down the stairs carrying my laundry."_**

Lucas gasps for air. Even then, he knew something was off. He knew and he never did anything.

God, she must have hated him. He wonders if it was possible for her to have hated him as much as he does himself right now. Why hadn't he pushed?

_"Seriously, Luke, don't push her. Let her come to us."_

His eyes harden and glare at the blond facing him.

"You knew. You knew and you tried to keep me away."

Peyton frowns. "What?"

"You knew about the attack! And you fed me this bullshit about her falling down the stairs! You tried to stop me from saving her!" he screams, blood rushes to his head, blocking out the disappointed voice chastising him for yelling at his pregnant fiancé.

Peyton looks horrified. "I would _never _do that!"

"Bullshit! You've always kept me from saving her...You've always wanted me to save you and no one else!"

The blond glares at him with a fierceness in her eyes that he's never seen before. She ignores the fact that he just voiced her inner thoughts exactly.

"It wasn't as though I forced you to be there!"

"YOU _KNEW_!!"

"No! I didn't, alright?! I was kept in the dark too. She didn't even trust me enough to tell me this!" She's crying now. Lucas calms down; he hadn't meant to make her cry. "I just found out a couple of weeks ago, alright?"

Lucas takes deep breaths to try and calm himself; he doesn't want to hurt Peyton.

"I just…I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"_None_ of us knew, Lucas. Brooke took care of this by herself." It hurt her that she wasn't there for her friend. It hurts her more that Lucas would think she could ever do something like that to Brooke; to him. _He's just drunk_, she decides. She knows that he would never hurt her or their baby. She knows that he loves them both more than anything. She also knows that alcohol can make him say things he never really meant.

_"I hate you. You ruined my life."_

She instinctively rests her hand on her belly. _He doesn't mean it._

Lucas sees her place her hands protectively over her belly, where their child was growing. He calms significantly, a little of the haze of alcohol slowly ebbing away at the thought that his child was healthy, was going to survive—he was going to have a family.

He remembers Brooke, remembers how hard she fought for getting a child, how much she loved, laughed, cried, and struggled for Angie; how much _she_ wanted what he was now going to have.

"_You didn't even flinch when you saw me at the funeral!"_

His anger was back on full force and he struggles not to explode again.

"You still should have told me,."

The blonde looks away, ashamed. "I didn't think you two were that close anymore."

Lucas blinks back in shock. Had they fallen apart so completely, that even Peyton thought they weren't friends? His heart takes on a different kind of pain.

"I have to get out of here." He mumbles distractedly, looking around for a quick escape.

"Where are you going?" She watches him storm out. "Lucas! Lucas!"

He doesn't answer, doesn't turn back, he just slams the door in her face.

**B&L**

_  
_He'd seen her in the news.

**_Lucas Scott wasn't normally one to read the likes of the National Informer, but when a familiar face on the cover of the magazine caught his eye, he had to pick it up._**

**_FASHION FEMME FATALE THWARTS KILLER!_**

**_He ran towards her house all the while trying to figure out what Brooke was doing around the man who killed Quinton in the first place. He needed to know if she was okay; needed to make sure she wasn't hurt._**

**_He ran straight to her door, not even planning to knock, when his eyes caught Julian laughing with her through the window. He frowned, his hands lingering on the door knob for a moment longer, before he turned and walked away._**

Lucas stands outside her door staring at the arabesque frame. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, but as soon as he'd stepped in front of it he couldn't make himself move. He wants to see her, wants to be there for her, but he's somehow afraid of that very same thing. So, he just stands there, not ready to make a decision yet, and stares ahead.

The first thing he notices is the white paint of the doorway. _It isn't right_, he thinks. It's too plain; too bland; too..._not _Brooke. It should be red, was the last thought that ran through his head before the door lights turn on, and Brooke's worried face emerges in front of him.

"Lucas what on earth are you DOING out there?!" she grabs him and quickly ushers him in, casting a weary glance at the windy night. A storm was coming.

She closes and locks her door, shutting out the cold winds and significantly quieting the house before she turns and glares at him.

"Peyton called." She says tersely, letting Lucas know that he was in for one of her infamous onslaughts. But he didn't care about that now, he needed to do what he came to do.

His eyes roam her body urgently looking for any signs of her pain. He looks at her bare arms—flawless. Even her face seems to have healed from her fall down the stairs; and her neck line had lost those mysterious little bruises that no one fully understood.

"Take off your shirt." He orders in what would be a forceful tone if it hadn't been for the fear in his voice.

Brooke quirks an eyebrow. "_Excuse_ me?"

Lucas walks towards her with the obvious intent of taking it off for her.

"Take it off." He says, pulling at the hem of her shirt and trying to pull it off of her despite her protests.

"What? Lucas! No—_stop_." She struggles against his forceful arms, but it is as if he's on auto pilot. His eyes are wide and dull, his jaw is slack, and he seems to notice only her shirt.

"Lucas—_please_." She begs, the feeling of hands all over her taking her back to that night.

Lucas finally looks up and catches her eye. The fear he sees in their hazel-green depths give him immediate pause. His fear, curiosity, need for proof are all replaced by the guilt he has for scaring her.

"Brooke…" he whispers, his voice cracking from the pain. "I won't hurt you."

Brooke hesitates for a moment, looking into his eyes before releasing the desperate grip she had on her bodice. _He knows_, she realizes. She is still stunned over what he's about to do, but the pain in his soft voice convince her to let him do it.

Lucas looks into her eyes a moment longer, trying to communicate his intent before slowly sliding her shirt over her head.

What he sees makes him wish she'd resisted him harder.

Her entire torso, her beautiful body was covered in giant bruises. Some fading, two remaining. Her beautiful tanned skin that he had once marked with touches and kisses of love and lust was now tainted by blue and yellow and green. He hesitantly reaches and strokes her breast, where he could see the edges of bruises showing at the cusp of her bra line. His touch sends waves of electricity throughout Brooke's body, but Lucas doesn't notice. This isn't a sexual act for him; this is an act of pain and bewilderment.

"Did he…" he looks up at her and trails off, his eyes pleading for one sign of good news.

Brooke shakes her head. "N-no."

Lucas lets out a sigh of relief. It wasn't much, but he didn't know what he would do with himself if she'd been violated in _that_ way.

Tears suddenly burst into his eyes. She was hurt. His Pretty Girl, his Cheery was in pain for months and he never even noticed. Some low life had violated her, and he hadn't been there. He wasn't there to save her like he's promised. He wasn't there to kill that bastard with his bare hands. Brooke had to take him down. By herself. She must have been so terrified, so lonely, in such pain.

_She could have died._  
_"You were never there for me!"_

He suddenly feels nauseous. His fingers drop from her breast, as though the touch of them burned him before launching himself to the kitchen sink—knowing he wouldn't reach the bathroom.

"Lucas!" In a second, Brooke is by his side, running her soft hands up and down his back gently as she turns on the faucet to wash away the stench and residue. She'd hastily put her shirt back on, hurt and ashamed that her body that used to hold so much power over him now made him hurl. She squashes down the pain and tends to him. She can deal with that once he's gone.

"Shhh…Lucas, its okay. I'm sorry." She whispers soothingly. She wonders how much alcohol he's had that day, she's never seen him vomit with this much intensity before.

After several moments, Lucas collapses on her kitchen floor, his back leaning against the counter. He breathes heavily, filling his lungs with oxygen in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart. Brooke opens the window and leaves the faucet on. She pours a glass of orange juice, and brings it to his lips. He refuses, eyes hollow and depressed, looking out into nothingness.  
Brooke forces his mouth open and practically shoves the straw in his mouth.

"Drink." She says forcefully, and Lucas follows immediately. Suddenly, he realizes the position they're in, and he lets out a single bark of laughter. _She_ was taking care of _him_.

He finally looks up at her, noticing she'd covered herself up. She looks like a porcelain doll again; her hair so perfect and thick stopping at her rounded shoulders; her flawless make up on her beautiful face. But being this close, knowing what he knew, he sees it isn't all perfect. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swears he could see dark bags under her eyes that he'd never noticed before. Her arms were more toned, filled with muscles that he'd never seen. _She practiced self-defence_, he realizes, finally understanding why her punches had hurt him so much. Her hair, although still beautiful and thick, had lost that special lustre that seemed only she could accomplish. He looks back at her eyes and for the first time notices the loss of the sparkle he'd fallen in love with so long ago. It's this that proves to him how broken she was, and his heart almost stops with the realization that it might be too late to fix her.

He suddenly grabs her and holds her to her chest, tightly. She protests initially, but soon moulds into his arms as the familiar feeling washes over her.

"Tell me what happened." He feels her tense in his arms, and he knows she doesn't want to relive the past. But he has to make her talk; has to stop her from bottling up her emotions like she's always done.

"Brooke. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

She takes a deep, shattered breath. She doesn't want to relive it but the memory of that night keeps coming back, has been haugnting her for months, and she doesn't know how to make it stop.

"I was....working late. Angie had just left—you know." He nods over her head. Brooke liked to distract herself with work when she was upset. "An—and, he just came in. Out of nowhere, he just appeared. Then he—" She lets out a sob. Lucas runs his hands up and down her back in soothing motions. "Lucas, I was _so_ scared."

His arms tighten around her. "I know." He whispers, willing himself not to cry. "You don't have to be scared. I'm here."

She sniffles, relaxing in the warmth of his embrace. She can still picture that night as though it happened moments ago; but something's different. Somehow, the pain, the fearcit's not as intense as it used to be.

"After he left, I...just lay there. I couldn't move." He strokes her back gently, she shivers. "I don't know how long it was before I moved."

"Were you knocked unconscious?" His voice is flat, void of emotion; hiding the fury and pain.

"No." She's cries harder. "I remember all of it." She lets out a gut wrenching sob. Lucas rests his cheek against hers, whispering reassurances in her ear that she barely hears but somehow washed away all her unease.

"Then what happened?"

She shrugs against him. "I...picked myself up and walked home." she sniffles again, feeling him stiffen against her. "I didn't want anyone to see me."

"Why not?" he asks before he can stop himself. _Why did she always refuse help?_

She's silent for a moment, and he wonders if he's pushed her too far. But then, she speaks.

"I..."_ Pools of blood, blood on skin, blood in hair, blue, black, tears, cuts, pain. _"I was disgusting, Lucas."

"What?"

"I _was_." she sobs. "I was...sweaty, and weak and pathetic—"

"Brooke—" He cups her cheek, but she wont look at him.

"And I'd just let this stranger come into _my _store and destroy my life's work. And I couldn't even defend _myself_."

"Hey, hey, hey...Pretty Girl." Her old nickname drives her to meet his eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I know. And don't ever think yourself pathetic. You're so strong, Brooke."

She sobs. "I didn't feel very strong."

"But you are. You...you dealt with this all by yourself. You kept this darkness hidden and you survived and somehow came out stronger than before. You're so brave, Brooke." She sniffles and leans her head on his shoulders. _She was beautiful, and brilliant and brave._

_  
_They stay silent for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts and completely content with just laying in each other's arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers after a time.

Brooke shrugs. "You were in Vegas."

Lucas tightens his hold on her, conscious of not holding her too tightly so as not to hurt her.

"Why didn't you tell me after?" She doesn't answer, Lucas makes her look at him.

"Why, Brooke?" she won't meet his eyes. What was she supposed to say? That she was too angry for him not being there when she finally needed him the most? That she shouldn't _have_ to ask for his help? That she was hurt he'd left her and taken her best friend with him so close to when Angie left?

She shrugs, and turns her face back into his chest, breathing in his scent.

"I didn't want to burden you." It was true, she didn't want to ruin his and Peyton's happiness. _They both deserved so much happiness. _

For a moment, he's silent. His breathing is controlled, and his arms are strong and warm and safe around her. Brooke takes in deep breaths, trying to inhale his essence that makes her feel so content and loved. With each exhale she feels the tension in her body release. She hasn't felt this free in months.

Suddenly, he speaks.

"You could never be a burden, Pretty Girl."

His voice is soft, and sure and so genuine that it makes her cry harder. She feels his chest heave in ragged motions, and she realizes that he's crying as well.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, broken. "I'm so, so, so sorry."

_**- tbc-**_

I will have the next chapter sometime next week. There are still a few tweaks here and there but I think it's mostly ready for the public. Hope you enjoyed it. Comments/suggestions are always appreciated. Please review!


	3. Love Song Requiem

WOOT!! Didn't I say I would get this up in a week? You all need to give a gigantic bow to the amazing Corey, who beta'd (sp?) this entire chapter for me and made it into this beautiful work of art instead of the grammatical horror it originally was. Corey, love, I adore you.

Once again, I'd like to thank all of those who reviewed my last chapter. You guys are the reason I actually write this stuff. lol My second chapter got less reviews than my first, so if you feel that the writing style or the content is deteriorating, please let me know so that I can improve!

**dolcegrazia**: I lolled at your question. LOL! No, I didn't imagine Peyton laughing or cackling in her head. I don't imagine her as being intentionally vile. I just think she's pathetic, selfish, indecisive, and a hypocrite. I think she genuinely believes that she is never in the wrong. She won't admit to any of her mistakes and expects people to apologize at getting angry with her. Some people sympathize with her because of her ability to act the victim, I just find it repulsive.

**.Cinnamon:** Thank you for your corrections. Hopefully having a beta will ensure that those are taken care of this chapter. And I'm working on MSL! I swear! It's just the most complicated story I have ever attempted structure wise! It would work out SO much better on television/acted out. But I WILL finish it. Eventually.

Thank you to everyone else who reviewed! Many of you have touched on where I plan to take this fic, which is good.

Oh, and this'll be a _fourth _parter. **LeSigh.**

As always, Enjoy.

And please review!

_So say goodbye to love,  
and hold your head up high.  
There's no need to rush;  
We're all just waiting,  
Waiting to die._

**B&L**

Peace. Brooke Davis can't remember the last time she felt so at peace. The world is quiet. A low hum the only source of sound, lulling her to sleep. Her body is blanketed with soothing warmth and if she wasn't so comfortable and content, she'd cry. She's known nothing but cold for months. Her source of comfort slowly rises and falls, smelling of soap and freshness and making her feel as though she were lazily drifting in the ocean, held up by the hands that are softly rubbing her back. She feels safe and happy and fuzzy; protected from the world and loved. Loved. Goose bumps grow on her skin. _She is loved._

The phone rings, and the spell is broken.

Suddenly, the world isn't so quiet anymore. Water is still rushing out of the faucet. She can hear a dog barking in the distance. The world is alive but, she doesn't mind; she still feels safe. Her eyes slowly drift open and his chest comes into view. She takes a deep breath and smiles.

The phone rings again and Brooke struggles to force herself to answer it. She doesn't want to leave this haven, this calm. On the third ring, she makes a move to push herself up but finds herself locked in Lucas' tight embrace. She looks up at him and sees him looking down at her; his eyes are soft and inquisitive, gentle and full of pain.

She locks eyes with him and everything in the world disappears again. The air is silent once more.

The phone rings a fifth time and she tries once again to answer it but Lucas still won't let her go.

"Ignore it," he whispers.

"It's probably Peyton."

He doesn't answer. He bends down and buries his face into her neck, inhaling her scent audibly. Brooke is distinctly aware that they haven't lain like this in almost 5 years, haven't been this close, haven't touched in so long. And yet…it feels right. It feels calming, enticing, and comfortable all at the same time. It's the most natural feeling in the world. So natural, that she almost doesn't register how wrong it is to have him kissing her neck the way he is.

_Almost._

_"Lucas!"_ She bites her tongue, barely suppressing the moan that wants to escape her lips at the feeling of having his tongue slide against the sensitive spot on her shoulder. Figures he would still remember exactly how to work her after all of these years.

She pushes herself off of him with surprising force considering that loss of contact is the last thing her body wants at the moment.

Lucas reaches for her helplessly, trying to keep her close. He wants to kiss all the pain away, to help her feel something other than the fear that she's become so unjustly accustomed to. He wants to make her forget. Why won't she let him help her?

"You're drunk," she spits out bitterly.

Lucas shakes his head. "Trust me, I've sobered up."

"What the hell are you thinking?!"

"I just... I just want to be with you."

**_"I wanna be with you, Brooke."_**

She glares at him. "You did not just say that to me while your at-risk, pregnant wife, aka- my BEST friend, is worrying over you at home!"

"She's not my wife—"

"She may as well be!"

"Brooke," he scrambles to his feet, tears sill in his eyes. "I just—I can't."

He can't make sense of what he's feeling; can't put it into words. He's never wanted to turn back time more in his entire life. Never wanted to take back anything more than he wants to take back the choice he made four months ago. If he'd have chosen her, if he called her and asked her to marry him that fateful night at the airport, this never would have happened. They would be together and she would be blissfully protected from pain.

_She'd probably be pregnant with your baby right now_, a voice in his head taunts. Lucas has never wanted to die as he does in this moment.

"You're acting just like Dan!" She bites out, frustrated over his sudden silence.

She's furious that he would hurt Peyton like this but angrier that he ruined their moment—ruined the quiet and the ocean and the calm. Lucas inhales sharply and his sorrow-filled eyes turn into a scowl.

"No. No, that's not fucking fair, alright? I'm not as vile as him."

He can't believe she would say that to him. After all of the times that he's opened up to her about his fear of being like his father. After all of the reassurances she's given him. _He. Is. Not. Like. Him._

"Oh really? You want vile? How about leaving your at-risk, pregnant fiancé to satisfy your fucking hero complex!"

"That's not what this is about!"

"That's exactly what this is about!" He looks away from her—angry, pained, and frustrated, but Brooke keeps digging. "What? Is it that you can't save Peyton this time?" Lucas closes his eyes and tries to keep his calm but he can feel the anger and desperation bubbling within him. "Are you trying to run away before you find out you're a fucking failure—"

"I'm doing this because I love you!"

Brooke's breath hitches. She takes an involuntary step back and, for a moment, all of her fear and all of the vulnerability that define her are bared. She'd waited so long to hear those words and cried herself through sleepless nights when they never came. And now that they're finally here, they're a product of his deluded attempts at satisfying his guilt? It takes all of her self-control not to lash out at him again. She swallows the pain and glares up at him.

"Lucas." She says it calmly and he can hear the controlled detachment. Her walls are up. "I don't need your saving."

"Look, I know how this sounds, alright?" He looks into her eyes, pleading for her to believe him. "But I've never felt like this before. I've never been so scared in my life, Brooke."

_Blue, green, yellow, bruised._

_"You were never there for me!"_

His eyes swell with tears. He takes her hands in his; they're cold, limp, and non-reacting. "If I lost you…" He exhales a shaky breath. "I wouldn't have survived." He makes a silent prayer that she believes him, hopes against all hope that she trusts his words and the pain so apparent in his eyes.

Instead, she laughs. Shaking her head in disbelief, she pulls her hands from his and rolls her eyes.

"God, you're pathetic." she mumbles more to herself, but she knows he can hear her. "I really don't know what any of us saw in you." She looks up at his pained face and shows him the absolute lack of remorse that she feels at her words.

"Brooke—"

"No. Don't say anything, Lucas. I don't want to hear another word from you." She grabs her head in frustration. "You just—you just don't get it, do you? You jump from one girl to the next like you're some God's gift to women. You act all misunderstood and deep because you can't deal with the fact that you're nothing but a selfish bastard!"

"I just—"

"I said don't say another word!" Lucas shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Really, he can't exactly be surprised. The last thing he was expecting when he decided to come clean with his feelings for her was a heart-warming reunion. "You're right, Lucas. You're not like Dan. You're worse. Because your _father_? At least he admits to being a raging psychopath!"

"He's _not _my father," he bites out.

"Yes, he is. And it's never been more obvious than it is now," she shakes her head and for the first time since he met her, she looks at him with absolute disgust. "Keith didn't raise you to be like this. This is all in the Dan Scott genes, apparently."

Lucas shakes his head furiously. He can't believe this is happening. If anyone knows how to hurt him the most, it would be Brooke.

"I have to get out of here."

"Oh, where are you going? Out to get plastered again and call up Lindsey to confess your undying love for her?"

"Shut up, Brooke!"

"Or are you gonna go to daddy and see if he's finally proud now that you've ended up like him?"

"I said shut up!" He's screaming, wanting nothing more than to throw something to relieve his anger.

"Then stop being an idiot!" Her screaming is just as intense. She knows that she's hurting him, knows that she's using his darkest and worst fear against him. But his words are tugging at feelings and dreams she'd repressed long ago and she'll be _damned_ if she ever lets them out again.

"Why are you being like this?" His face constricts with pain. _I'm not like him._

"Because you haven't even been together 6 months and you're already thinking of betraying my best friend! Who, by the way, also happens to be pregnant with your child!"

"I'm not trying to hurt Peyton," he insists.

Brooke throws her hands in the air, "_Un_believable!"

She turns away from him, trying to compose herself and willing herself_ not_ to smack him over the head with the frying pan placed conveniently on the kitchen counter. She decides against it; he's brain damaged enough as it is.

She takes a deep breath and turns back to him. They stare at each other in silence, both trying to regain their calm before they say anything more they're bound to regret.

"Why is it so hard for you to just let yourself be happy?"

Lucas frowns, "What do you mean?"

"You _finally_ have her, Luke." Her voice is no longer filled with malice. "After all these years of pining for her and all of the mistakes you made, why are you still pushing her away?"

"I...I'm not happy with Peyton. At least...not as happy as I could be." He closes his eyes. _God, he sounds like an idiot._

Brooke laughs—a short, tired laugh that sounds more like a sob.

"Well that's just fucking great. Really, Luke. Fantastic. After all the heart break that Lindsey went through, after everything that I went through in high school, so you two could find your way through your _"epic journey",_ you turn around and say –_again_—that you're still not happy."

"I—"

"Well, you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm done. You can go ahead and make some disaster of your life in your goal to find meaning and depth or whatever. Just leave me out of it." She storms passed him.

"Brooke—"

"Lock the door on your way out."

Lucas watches her ascend the stairs in shock. Never in his life did he imagine Brooke would completely turn her back on him. Even when they were fighting in the past, she'd always be there for him to set him straight or reassure him. He glances at the door and contemplates leaving. He thinks about Peyton and their baby and he's more confused than he's ever been in his life.

He loves his fiancé. He does. She was the only one who would fight for him; the only one to believe and trust in his love for her. The only one everyone else believed and trusted that he loved. Peyton was the one person he could have a relationship with that everyone understood, the only relationship he had that he himself could make sense of. And…she's pregnant with his child. She's giving him the family he's always wanted. He knows he could never leave them.

_But..._

He turns away and looks up the stairs, where Brooke just disappeared to moments ago.

He misses laughter—_her_ laughter. He misses her teasing and giggles and her unwavering optimism. He misses the hope that only she could inspire; the ability to frame any situation in the best light; her strength, her resilience, her boundless energy; her innocence.

Those qualities are what lead him here tonight.

The news of her attack forced him to realize that all of the qualities he's admired cherished and yearned for in Brooke Davis—they've somehow been lost. She's quieter now; less intrusive and more empty. So empty. She's no longer the Brooke that he fell in love with. He had thought it was because of him, believed that she'd closed herself off from him for leaving after Angie had to go. Now, knowing about the attack, he fears it may be a permanent loss. And that thought terrifies him more than anything.

He runs up the stairs towards her. _He'll save her._ He'll bring the Brooke they all know and love back and then he'll never let her go.

He finds her sitting on her bed, holding onto a pillow for dear life and crying herself a river. His heart breaks.

"Pretty girl," he whispers, before holding his breath, waiting for her reaction. He walks quietly into the room and breathes out a silent sigh of relief when she doesn't throw him out. She doesn't really respond at all to his presence—just continues to look ahead, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he murmurs.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." She still won't look at him. Lucas sighs and sits on the edge of her bed.

"I rushed into things with Peyton." He hears her huff in frustration and before he even has the chance to turn around, she's hitting him with her pillow.

"Wh—hey, cut it out." He gets up from the bed and puts some distance between them.

"You're such an idiot!" She throws her pillow at him for emphasis.

"We've already established that."

"No! You're just—you're throwing a chance at a great life away because of some deluded need to be a hero. Get this through your thick skull, Scott—you do _not_ need to be in love with someone just because you want to save them!"

Lucas chuckles. Half in amusement over her antics—she's propped up on her knees on the bed with her hands resting on her hips, her hair is ruffled, her eyes are glaring, and her cheeks are flushed—half at the irony of her statement. "You know, if you lived by that rule just 5 years ago we wouldn't be in this mess."

"What are you talking about?"

Lucas throws his arms in the air. "Brooke, you asked me why I can't let myself be happy? That's _all_ I'm trying to do. I was happy when we were together. I know we were young and I know we had our problems but even back then, you were _it_ for me. But you're the one who refuses to let yourself just _feel_. And I'm left on the sidelines trying to get back that happiness—but I can't." He looks down at her, eyes serious and desperate and drained. But the look she gives him makes him feel like he'd just sprouted another head.

"Lucas." He huffs in frustration; she's speaking to him like he's insane. "We haven't been together in _five_ years."

"And whose fault is that?"

"We haven't even been friends since Angie went away."

"Come on—"

"No, it's true. You can't deny that we're not a big part of each other's lives anymore."

**_"Do I get to be part of this world?"_**

**_"The biggest part."_**

"Luke," her voice brings him back from his memory. "You have to get over this need to complicate everything good that happens in your life. You're with Peyton and you're in love and you're happy. Why can't you just believe that?"

He throws his head back and groans in frustration.

"Why won't you believe that _I_ know how _I_ feel?"

"Because you've proven that you don't! I'm serious. Look at what happened with Lindsey—"

"I was happy with Lindsey."

"But you still left her for Peyton!"

"_She_ left me."

"Because _you_ are in love with Peyton!"

He rakes his fingers through his hair. "This really is useless."

"Yeah. It is. So," she ushers him towards the door. "Go be with your woman!"

Lucas doesn't say anything, choosing to remain rooted to his spot, staring at her. A moment passes and they're still staring at each other. Another moment passes and he's still hasn't moved, that strange look in his eye still in place and...squinting. Brooke quirks her eyebrows. "_Now_ would be good."

"She was too easy," he says suddenly.

Brooke narrows her eyes at him, "In what way, exactly?"

He ignores her attempt at humor."We were too hard."

This time, her playful frown turns into one of confusion, "Come again?"

"In my dream, if I'd picked you—"

"I'm sorry—dream?"

"I…had a dream the day I asked Peyton to marry me."

"I don't need to hear about your sexual fantasies with your wife, Lucas."

"Would you just be serious for a second?"

She rolls her eyes again, thinking that they'll probably get stuck up there with the amount of times she's done it tonight, and signals for him to continue.

"I…dreamed of you."

Her eyes go wide for a split second before she composes herself. "Most men do."

This time, Lucas smiles. "I dreamed of you…and us."

"There is no _us_—"

"And Peyton and Lindsey and our relationships," he decides to just talk over her, knowing he'll never get a word in otherwise.

"We," she points between them. "Don't _have_ a relationship."

"I know that."

"So what the hell are you talking about?"

Lucas bites his tongue, "I…I guess subconsciously I've always wanted us to be together."

She looks at him like he's crazy. "Subconsciously?"

He sighs, knowing full well that she's mocking him.

"Would you stop it?"

"No, Lucas, _you_ stop it. Where the hell do you get off dumping all this shit on me? Now? After everything?" _I should have just clobbered him with that frying pan when I had the chance._

"I'm just telling you how I feel."

"No. You're feeding me a lot of bullshit about how you _think_ you feel." He scowls and she laughs; she knew that would piss him off. "Seriously, you're reading way too much into this dream of yours. You probably just read a book and your mind substituted the character with me or something."

_You're reading way too much into this dream._ Lucas wonders what she'd say if she knew that dream was the reason he'd called Peyton that night.

"Are you going to stay in Tree Hill?" he asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

She looks at him like he's crazy."Of course I'm going to. I told you already that I came here to stay. This is my home; it's where my family is. Haley, Nathan, Jamie and you and Peyton. I'll never leave again."

He looks away from her and she sees him inhale a shaky breath._ Is he crying?_

Brooke pushes herself up from the bed and makes her way over to him.

"Luke? What's this about?" He looks up and locks eyes with her and once again, she has to force herself not to look away. Even though it's been constant throughout this whole ordeal, she still isn't used to seeing the raw pain in his eyes.

"I dreamt that you and I had to move back to New York and that you were too busy working to have a family." He laughs through the tears, bitterly. For the first time, he realizes that this is the situation he's in with **_Peyton_**, not Brooke. Never Brooke. "But I heard…I heard about all of it. I heard about Sam, and you permanently moving to Tree Hill…" he tries to catch her eyes but she won't look anywhere near him. "Which is why I had to stay away, Brooke. If I'd have seen you, as you really are…my dream wouldn't make sense. And the choices I made based on those dreams wouldn't either."

"What sense?! Since when have you ever been about what made sense?"

"Just hear me out—"

"No. I've heard about enough of your bullshit, alright? Don't you see what you're doing, Lucas? I don't care how many ways you try and rationalize this—you are not going to abandon your child and fiancé on impulse!"

"I'm _not_ going to leave my child."

"And I'm not going to let you change your mind again!"

"That's not fair. I made my choice—and it was Lindsey, just like it was you all those years ago. But you both left me."

"Because we knew you really wanted to be with Peyton!"

"Oh my God! Do you even realize how hypocritical you're being?!"

"Do _you_? Lucas, it's not like we made these conclusions out of nothing. You were always, always tied to Peyton. No matter who you were with, you could never distance yourself from her."

"She would never distance herself from _me_!" He cries out, he's so tired of this conversation. "A-and yeah, maybe I basked in it a little. But come on, I was a kid. I liked being a hero, sue me."

"That's just it, though, _we_ were kids. We're adults now. This isn't high school anymore, Lucas."

"So you say, but I just went through the same heartbreak you put me through in high school. Only with Lindsey."

"Yeah. Lindsey was me. And look where we ended up? You still left her for Peyton."

"I didn't leave you!" he screams, infuriated. His head is now aching from the monster hangover he's developing, his heart beating dangerously fast—he hasn't taken his medicine for the first time in months.

He looks exasperated and Brooke almost feels guilty for pushing him away like this. _He's just trying to make you happy. _She wants so much to finally be happy. Her thoughts drift to Peyton. _In that moment, my triumph was not a State Championship but a moment of clarity._ They were going to have a baby. Her Peyton, her Lucas, the two people she loves most in the world—they were finally together and their baby is the proof of their undying love. _The realization that we had always been meant for each other and every instinct to the contrary had simply been a denial of the following truth:_ She wouldn't get in the way again. She was just a roadblock; a footnote; disposable. _I was now, and would **always** be, in love with Peyton Sawyer._ She just has to remind Lucas.

"But you weren't completely with me, either." she says softly, ignoring the pain she feels at the words echoing in her head. "Don't you remember how many times you left me to go save Peyton? Lucas, you were with me physically but you were never fully there." She doesn't bother holding her tears in this time.

Lucas shuts his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. His head is pounding along with his heart and the pulse is echoing in his ears. _How could she be so wrong?_ How could they have misunderstood each other so completely? Had they lost all ability to communicate after their break up? He didn't have the answers to these questions but he knew he had to fix things.

"Brooke, sit down." His suddenly calm demeanor surprises Brooke into obedience. She notes how tired he looks. How his eyes crinkle under his frown; the edges of his mouth seem to be anchored down, pulling and elongating his face. He meets her eyes and she immediately recognizes the same pain she's feeling. Pain she felt for years and thought she'd escaped long ago. But there was something else she recognized, something she'd never seen in his eyes before, something she'd accepted as her curse long ago.

She sees defeat.

"Brooke," he tries to smile and it breaks her heart. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. I don't know what I did to make you feel that way but I am telling you now, that that isn't how it was." She tries to speak but he shakes his head. "Let me finish, please?"

She shuts her mouth and sags further into the bed.

"Do you know how many times I wished you would open up to me?" She frowns and cocks her head. _Guess not._ "I used to sit up wondering how I could get you to trust me enough to let me in. Like you did in those letters." She looks away and he smiles, knowing that after all these years, those letters and their contents still provide a source of embarrassment for her.

"I still have them, you know." He says in hopes of lightening the mood, like she did with their Henry and Gretchen I.D.s just two days ago.

Of course, that planned backfires completely.

_"What?"_

He doesn't quite catch the venom in her voice.

"The letters. I still have them. They're in the back of my closet, somewhere." He smiles. "You know, I kept reading them throughout that last year of high school. And then again after..." He trails off, not wanting to bring up the night of the fake engagement. When he'd woken up the next morning, sober and with only memories of his night with Brooke, the first thought that ran through his head was that he hadn't had that much fun in more than six months.

"Lucas!" She jumps off the bed and stomps her feet, shocking him into an upright position. "Are you insane?! You need to go and get rid of those letters _now_."

"What? Why?" He's a little shocked to see her react so angrily. What did he do _now_?

"Because! This is the friggen Tree Hill Triangle of Death! It is _guaranteed_ that Peyton finds those letters somehow!" He tries to point out the ridiculousness of her claim but she talks right over him. "Oh God, what if Lindsey found them? Maybe that's why she didn't like me that much?"

"Lindsey liked you fine. And I didn't read them as much when I was with her."

Brooke glares at him.

"LUCAS!"

"What?"

"You shouldn't be reading them at all!" She hits him for emphasis.

"Ow, hey. That hurts now that you've buffed up."

"This is serious!"

"I know it is!! Damn it—" he takes a deep breath.

_Calm down, Luke,_ he coaches himself. His headache is doing just fine without the added help of his frustrated screams. Part of him wishes they could just sit and have a civil conversation about this. He looks at Brooke, her eyes ablaze with fury, accentuating the green hue. She is breathtaking. It takes a moment for him to realize she's still yelling at him.

"How could you be so _stupid_?!"

_Calm the **fuck** down_. This self-coaching stuff really doesn't work very well. He needs to learn to control himself more.

"And after what happened the last time? And all the bullshit you put everyone through? And—and—she's pregnant!"

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT!" Then again, he never could control his emotions around Brooke. "I know, alright?! I get it. I made my choices and now I have to live with the consequences."

Brooke's eyes go as wide as saucers. "Your child is _not_ a consequence!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"It better not be."

"Brooke." He can't help but laugh. Chest heaving, mouth open, eyes glaring with both fists clenched at either side of her, she really does look like she's about to kill him. Which is really a shame, because all Lucas wants to do is kiss her.

He looks away from her, trying to gather his bearings and sift through the conflicting feelings whirling through him. He silently acknowledges the fact that he hasn't felt so much in over 5 years. He hasn't been so frustrated, so desperate, so angry, passionate, aroused, amused, or wanting in so long. He looks up at Brooke, tears still in his eyes but they refuse to spill. He can't remember the last time he felt so alive.

"I am _terrified_ of you, you know that?" He says this so softly and smiles at her predictable shock. Brooke takes a step back but for the first time, she can't speak.

"You—you never stop surprising me. Every time I think that I know everything about you, I find out that that's so far from the truth."

"You do know me." She says quietly, the quiver in her voice betraying her confidence.

He shakes his head, smiling a sad smile. "Not all of you. I know that you're passionate, loyal, that you're the most caring and loving person in the world. You're creative and strong. But..." He smiles wistfully, "There's always more."

They stare at each other in silence for a while, letting his words sink in.

Brooke seems to have forgotten the ability to breathe; no matter how hard she tries she can't get the lump in her throat to release, can't take in deep breathes because the pain in her chest keeps her lungs from expanding.

_He's doing it again._ He's looking at her in the way he did before that summer, with his eyes soft, pleading and genuine. He somehow manages to express an intensity through his eyes that makes her heart melt and silence that warning voice in the back of her mind. He's looking at her the way he did through the beginning of their senior year, when he declared his love for her and was patient and understanding and so forgiving.

When he was in denial about Peyton.

"An-And you know something?" He starts again after a while, hoping he's finally getting through but just wanting to finally voice feelings that he's kept locked up for so long. "It infuriated me. It frustrates me to a point where I want to throw something across the room and scream at the top of my lungs." He's smiling now. "But it always keeps me wanting more. I never stop wanting more." He takes a step toward her but she instinctively takes one back, halting his advances. Insecurities she thought she'd buried long ago snake their way to the front of her mind.

_You're just a footnote, something he's using._

Lucas' voice cuts through her thoughts. "How long have we known each other? And yet I still don't know exactly what type of music you listen to."

_He listens to songs of depth and sadness and poetry. He listens to Peyton's music. They have a connection you will never have. You have nothing in common._

"I don't know if you learned Spanish, like you wanted, or if you still want to play the drums."

Her eyes widen in shock and he smiles, remembering when she'd casually told him she'd always wanted to try them out. He knows she wouldn't think he'd remember. "You like to dance and you like wildflowers. You're all girl and yet, just last week, I saw you watching ESPN highlights with Jamie."

_You're not good enough, you're forgettable—second best._

_ You're **not** Peyton._

He starts walking towards her and she retreats. But this time, he doesn't stop. Brooke's back eventually hits her bedroom wall. She can't speak, can't breathe. Lucas towers over her and gazes deep into her eyes. He leans down so close that their lips graze each other, sending a jolt of electricity down their spines.

"So, what happened, Brooke? What kept us from wanting more?" He whispers, their lips touching as he speaks.

Brooke stays silent, pushing back with all her might, hoping to just fall through the wall and disappear. She looks so small; so scared.

_Sweetie, men only want one thing._ Her mother's drunken voice suddenly appears, a distant memory that she hasn't thought about for over a decade. _Give them that and you can get whatever you want._

Brooke?" Lucas questions when she doesn't answer. It's taking everything in him to stop himself from kissing her. He needs her to be the one to make the first move, knows that they can never have a real chance until she does. He's so close; she doesn't even have to move an inch and their lips would be locked.

_You're not Peyton._

_Slut._

_Replaceable—Worthless._

"My best friend fell in love with you." She finally whispers.

Lucas pulls back and the moment is over. He stares into her eyes, searching for something—anything that would give him hope. Give them hope.

"Do you..." He frowns and pauses, a large part of him terrified at the answer. "Do you not love me anymore?"

Brooke blinks at him calmly; her ability to think coming back now that he's not so close. "What do you want from me, Lucas?"

She didn't answer his question; it gives him hope. "I just want to know why. Why was it so easy for you to give up on us?"

Brooke shrugs. "I didn't want Peyton to be unhappy."

He steps farther away from her, eyes blazing with exasperation. "Cut the bullshit, Davis!" She narrows her eyes at him. "That may have been a factor, but that's not the only reason why you tossed me. Admit it; you left me because you were still insecure that I was in love with Peyton!"

Brooke looks away from him."Because you were."

Lucas rakes his hands through his hair. "Okay, just—forget about Peyton for a second. You know what I want? I want you to stop playing games with me. If you love me, I want you to just fight for me!"

"How? Fight for you how, exactly? Not that I'm admitting to any feelings of the sort but what do you expect me to do? Throw myself at you knowing that my best friend is in love with you and is set to marry you? What? Do you want us to fuck behind her back?"

Lucas cringes at her sarcastic tone, meant to slice.

"I just want you to be honest."

"Even if all it would do is hurt the people we love?" He looks away again and sighs. "I meant it when I said I wasn't going to fight for you." Recognition—pain—hit his eyes. "Fighting for you has always meant lies and deceit and pain and guilt and loneliness. I can't...I won't put Peyton through that."

"She put you through it."

Brooke shakes her head helplessly. "This is who I am, Lucas." she sounds so defeated, so tired that Lucas just wants to end it for her. But he can't. He's already opened this can of worms five years too late. And because he kept it off for so long, he wasn't there for her when she needed him.

"And what about all those times you acted like you didn't care?" He asks, a little bit of the pain he felt the second half of senior year trickling back. Brooke shakes her head.

"Why did you act the way you did?" He presses her, needing an answer.

"It was just easier," she admits. "I knew that you and Peyton were in love and I had to push you away so you could find each other." Something shifts in his eyes but she doesn't recognize it. "And I was right, wasn't I? You and Peyton became close so soon after we broke up. You finally had your chance to be together."

"So you manipulated us into it?"

Brooke frowns. "What?"

"You pushed me to her, Brooke. You pushed us away without any remorse. You didn't even care. You—" He stops suddenly. This was too much for him to handle. A day ago, he was planning to marry the woman who he'd believed he loved since the eighth grade. The woman now carrying his child. Today, he just wishes he could erase the last 6 years and start over.

Brooke interrupts his thoughts. "I may have pushed you to her, but you let me Lucas. You hardly even fought for me and—"

"Why? Why did I have to fight for you again? When have you ever done so for me?"

She lets out a tired sigh and shakes her head. "It would have just prolonged the inevitable."

"Inevitable what, Brooke? What was it that made you such an expert on my fate?"

She stares at him for a moment, long and hard, and he can tell she's hiding something.

"It's in your book," she says finally.

Lucas squints at her, confusion evident in his features.

Brooke takes a deep breath. "'If I told you that I loved you right now, would you hold it against me?' Would he hold it against, her? This bleeding tragic beauty that lay beside him, that had held his heart for so long, would doubt his need to hear those words? To this day, the one thing he regrets is not being able to say it back. She whispered it in his ear and it was then that he knew—he knew the extent of love that this woman who was bleeding out in front of him held for him and he was so overwhelmed that he couldn't even properly respond to the kiss."

Lucas' eyes widen. She just quoted his book. Verbatim.

"Yeah. I may not have bought a copy from every book store I went to but you can sure as hell believe that I read it enough times." She looks at him and all he can see is pain. There are no tears; she's used them all up. "That book was what proved to me that I'd done the right thing. All of the doubts, all of the what if's that I had were completely shut down after it was published. You knew that she loved you before our break up and you went to her because of it."

Lucas struggles to swallow through the lump in his throat. He's so shocked that he can't speak, can't think of anything to say.

"I was always in the way of you two, Lucas. And when Peyton told me that she loved you, I knew that our relationship wouldn't last. I just sped things up for the both of us." He's still silent, brooding to himself, like he always does. Brooke hopes that she's finally getting to him; she can't handle this much longer. "And I was right, wasn't I? I mean, you two got together and look where you are now, five years later? You're about to get married, and you're having a _baby_, Lucas." She says the last part with such awe and happiness that his eyes soften. They stare at each other long and hard and suddenly they're the only people in the world.

But then she frowns. "And now you have the nerve to be angry at me for being right?"

Lucas looks at her, wondering what he can say to take away all the pain and fear he's caused for her. He needs to let her know how wrong she is.

"Brooke, I swear to God, I did love—"

"Lucas! Stop it! Just stop it, okay?" She's pleading now. All the anger and resentment that has been so present throughout this conversation leaves her voice, and now she just sounds defeated and tired. _Oh so tired_. "I know you think you're doing the right thing but you're only going to hurt all of us more by lying to yourself. I don't need you to save me; I don't need your pity or want your apology. I just want it to _stop_." Her eyes are filled with tears, her sagging shoulders shaking with her attempt to hold them at bay. "_Please_." It's barely over a whisper, but Lucas feels like he's just been stabbed in the heart.

"I...I love Peyton. _Now_," he starts and Brooke looks relieved. "I'm going to marry her and she's carrying my first child." A little bit of joy involuntarily sneaks into his heart at the thought of his child. "But back then, _she_ was the road block for our journey. And instead of going around it or working through it, you turned back and you left me alone."

Brooke sighs and shakes her head. "This is all ancient history, Lucas."

He stares at her through unshed tears, unable to say anything more. He nods, forcing himself to accept the fact that he and Brooke could never be and without another word, he walks out.

**B&L**

Lucas walks back into the only home he's ever known. He tip toes around the dark house, doing his best to avoid his bedroom where he's sure Peyton is resting. He can't face her right now.

The light flicks on. "Where were you?"

A higher power is **_definitely_** against him.

Lucas sighs and glares at the ceiling before turning to his pregnant fiancé who is sitting on the couch. She's fidgeting with her hands, eyes red and brimmed with dried tears. Lucas' heart plummets. His eyes fall on her baby bump. What had he been thinking? This is his family now. _This_ is his life. No matter what happened in the past, his first priority, loyalty, and love should be for them. Not the woman who got away. He rushes to her side, cursing himself for making her cry, for making her doubt his loyalty and love for her.

"Peyton, I am so sorry." he kneels in front of her, taking her shaking hands in his and looks at her desperately. "I love you and our baby so much and I would never, ever try and hurt you. I'm so sorry." He looks into her eyes and tries to think of the ways he could make it up to her, knowing that a little speech isn't enough for the way he treated her tonight.

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. Lucas prepares for the attack he knows he deserves.

"Okay." She says and he does a double take. He looks up at her and watches the smile play on her lips.

"We're family now." She says softly, taking hold of his hands and placing them on her baby bump. "I'm so excited for us, Lucas. I love you so much." He smiles up at her. A small, genuine smile to communicate his own love and excitement for their new life together. But in the back of his mind her completely forgiving nature makes him uncomfortable, somehow. Why is it so easy? How is it that she's always ready to overlook everything that could have denied his love for her?

_She trusts him_, he realizes. She trusts his love for her so completely that she's willing to ignore the small problems and concentrate on the good. _Wanting to leave her for your ex-girlfriend is more than a 'small problem'_, bites the Haley-sounding voice in the back of his head.

He ignores it. The thought of her believing in his devotion to her makes his heart swell. Peyton knew what he did, yet she's not pushing him away. Not like Brooke always did. No like she _still_ does. He finally has someone that believes in his love for her; someone that isn't always so damn insecure. Happiness bubbles in his chest and in an instant, he picks Peyton up and takes her into their bedroom.

--

Later that night, after making love, Lucas stays up thinking about the night's events. It has been one of the most emotionally trying days in his entire life and he still can't believe what had happened. What had he been _thinking_? Leaving his family? His child? And for a woman who would never even trust him?

The argument keeps replaying over and over again in his head, each time renewing the pain and increasing the guilt.

**_"She put you through it!"_**

**_"This is who I am, Lucas."_**

The memory gives him pause. He looks down at his sleeping fiancé. She looks so peaceful; completely undisturbed over the fact that just a few hours ago, he'd left her to be with another woman. The realization that hits him makes the pride and happiness he felt earlier plummet and shrivel back into heartbreak.

It isn't trust in _him_ that's causing her calm.

Peyton's security was in her conviction that her best friend would do nothing to harm her.


	4. Something I Can Never Have

I had to watch the LP wedding to do this chapter….oh my goodness SO MUCH CRAP. I was embarrassed as a viewer. As an intellectual being, I was insulted. Firstly, I and everyone who reads my fic should send out a special thank you to the fabulous Corey (BRUCAS123) who once again took my amateur attempt at writing and fixed all the embarrassing grammar mistakes that make it a wonder that I ever got out of high school. And you should all read her fics, which oh so PWN mine.

Many thanks to all of you who reviewed! I love you guys and couldn't (wouldn't) do this without you! I also want to thank everyone who acknowledged the fact that I'm not trying to vilify Peyton! Honestly, I hate her character but I _am_ trying to write her in character. If anyone thinks I'm not doing so, that I'm writing her out of character to boost up the BL relationship, please let me know so I can avoid being like Mark. KThanks.

Enjoy and please review!

Title: Something I Can Never Have

**Disclaimer:** Considering my aim of this fic is realism and consistency, it is safe to say that I have absolutely nothing to do with the actual world of One Tree Hill. The Title and lyrics are products of the amazing Nine Inch Nails.

xx

Italics are thoughts or lyrics

Bolded Italics are...memories

xx

_I still recall the taste of your tears,  
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.  
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.  
Scraping through my head until I don't wanna sleep  
Anymore._

**B&L**

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be behind this glass right now?"

When Lucas Scott woke up this morning, he didn't feel the least bit rested. He'd had the most uncomfortable night's sleep he can remember. _Sleep_ wasn't a luxury he experienced these past few months. In fact, he'd avoided it—going out for jogs in the middle of the night, drinking coffee at irregular hours. But cursed is the human, with the need for unconsciousness; where the world and all that one knew could dissolve and deform into unimaginable horrors.

For Lucas Scott, last night had been the worst of it.

**_He watched in horror from afar, an invisible force holding him back as he fought with all his might to try and save her, the terrified screams pulling at the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, there was silence. The masked attacker he knew as John Daniels continued to lay on top of her, looking up at Lucas with cold, sadistic eyes. Lucas fought harder against the force, wanting nothing more than to rip his masked head off. The assailant stepped off from Brooke, who continued to lay motionless on the ground, surrounded by pools of her own blood. John reached up and unmasked himself. Lucas immediately felt his knees buckle under him. The unmasked man was himself. _**

**_Brooke turned and glared accusingly at him. _**

**_"You did this to me!"_**

Everything around him is gray. The stone walls are gray; the bar cells are gray. Even the fucking chair is gray. Lucas idly wonders why they would choose such a murky color for a place like this. It's ... stale, dirty—channeling a sense of hopelessness. Such a dull color. Not ominous, not exciting, not calming—just ... stoic. Emotionless. He supposes it's to offset the fear, desperation, and sadness that he can practically smell in the visiting families cluttered around him. He looks up at the man that has haunted his dreams for almost two months of restless nights. John Daniels sits motionless across from him, a glass window separating the criminals from the visiting innocent. And a booth: gray.

"You son of a bitch." He grits out, trying to control the urge to break through the barrier between his hands and John's neck.

Lucas had restrained himself from seeing him before now, wanting to wait until he calmed down before he did something he'd regret. Well, that had been Haley's advice, anyway. The day after his fight with Brooke, he'd marched straight to Haley and exploded. All the frustrations, all the pain, all the guilt spilled out of him. His best friend had bared it and as always—she calmed him down. He doesn't know what he would have done if it weren't for his sister-in-law.

Lucas meets John's eyes. They're cold, unfeeling—void of regret.

He would have killed him.

"All I can think of doing is making you feel every single ounce of pain that you put her through." He's never felt this way before. The only other time that he felt this violent towards someone was when he found out that Dan killed Keith. He was a child then and he couldn't bring himself to take another man's life. But he's older now—_wiser_, he'd like to think. And ridding the world of filth like the man sitting in front of him really doesn't sound like a scary thing anymore.

**_"Brooke, please baby, I'm here now."_**

"But I suppose it's lucky for me that I can't reach you. I have a baby on the way and doing what I feel like doing now really wouldn't bode well for my family." He rakes shaking fingers through his hair in bitter frustration.

_Brooke_ was the one to send this fucker to jail herself. In a way, she'd protected him, _again._

**_He'd broken free. He finally broke free of the invisible barrier keeping him from saving his Pretty Girl. He ran to her, faster than he's ever run in his life and finally reaching her, enveloped her in his arms._**

**_"It's okay, Pretty Girl. I'm here. You're safe, now." He pulled back and smiled down at her only to frown in horror at what he saw. Blood—there was too much blood. "Brooke?" he said desperately, shaking her roughly, trying to get her to open her eyes. "Come on, Pretty Girl. Wake up." He shook her again, this time more forcefully. "Brooke, please baby, I'm here now." His vision blurred by tears. But no matter how long he tried to wake her, she remained limp in his arms._**

**_He was too late. _**

**_She was dead._**

Lucas stands from his seat and leans towards the glass. His features harden; his eyes burn with fury and the promise of vengeance. He grits his teeth to try and calm himself down.

"You better hope and pray that our paths never cross."

John blinks up at him blankly and Lucas wonders if he's capable of feeling anything at all.

"Cause if you do, I will tear you limb from limb, do you understand me?"

John continues to stare, unperturbed and for a moment, Lucas loses it and punches the window. He doesn't even feel the sting of the impact. He just wants to see the bastard cower in fear.

"Hey!" A guard rushes over to Lucas and pulls him away from the booth. "Don't make me arrest you for attempted assault." He grumbles, pulling a seething Lucas out of the visiting area. Lucas looks back at John who is being led to his cell and meets his eyes. Rage explodes in his blue depths. The monster is _smirking_.

The officer brings Lucas out to the front desk and gives him an annoyed look.

"Mind telling me what that was about?"

Lucas doesn't answer. He looks away from the stranger and tries to calm himself down. It wouldn't do anyone good to get arrested so close to the wedding.

"He hurt someone you love, didn't he? Someone you cared for very deeply." Lucas meets his eyes and in place of the annoyance that was there seconds ago is understanding. "Is she dead?"

The officer's bluntness surprises him but he still manages to shake his head. His ears prickle painfully at the thought of Brooke dying.

**_"You did this to me!"_**

The police man nods in understanding. "Look, I know you're feeling an overwhelming urge to make him pay. But son, believe me when I tell you that the best thing for you to do is be with your loved one and thank God that you still have her." Lucas inhales sharply. "You can make enough memories that'll completely outweigh what's happened."

Lucas almost cries. He wants **_so much_** to make memories with her. "But what if I can't?" He _knows_ he can't. "What if I can't make this better for her?"

He can't get the image of her dead body out of his mind.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you." The guard places his hands on Lucas' shoulder, "So long as you have that, there's always hope."

**B&L**

_You always were the one to show me how,  
Back then I couldn't do things that I could do now._

Peyton Sawyer walks through the doors of Clothes Over Bros, spotting her childhood best friend working her magic and selling a dress that she knows costs more than a month's worth of pay. The customer's skeptical face turns into one of excitement and a moment later, the short red head is exchanging her next month's rent for a dress she'll probably only wear a single time in her life. She watches the girl leave the shop, looking like she'd just discovered an elixir to immortality.

"You could start your own cult following," she jokes, turning to Brooke who wears a proud smile on her face.

"Ha, ha. Your sarcastic cracks won't work today P. Sawyer-soon-to-be-Scott because sales are shooting up and it's all thanks to _my_ persuasive talents."

Peyton laughs. It always amazes her how Brooke seems to get everything she ever wants. She could convince a jock to try out for the lead position of the MathLeagues, if she felt like it.

"So, you excited to finally be tying the knot? You realize this is like, 6 years overdue, right?"

Peyton smiles nervously, "That's what I came here to talk to you about."

Brooke's eyes immediately widen. She circles around the counter and grabs her friend's arms, shaking her lightly.

"Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, don't you dare even _think_ of cancelling the wedding!"

"What?! No! It's not that!"

Brooke exhales deeply, as though she'd just regained the very _ability_ to breathe. Her body sags as she leans back on the counter and her face takes on the most relieved expression Peyton's ever seen.

"Oh, _thank God_. I put in way too much blood, sweat and tears into making this happen for you P. Sawyer. Do you know how many times I redid your wedding dress?"

Peyton bites her lower lip. She knows how much time and effort Brooke put into this wedding. She'd planned every detail, called the best catering service and best florists, and spent hours matching the colors. With the amount of effort she put into the planning, anyone would think this was _her_ wedding.

"I would have killed you if you changed your mind." Peyton realizes Brooke's still rambling. "Well, maybe not you, but I would've killed someone." She pauses, "Maybe Luke?" She says thoughtfully before shaking her head and looking her friend straight in the eye. "Anyway, point is, you _cannot_ do this to me. Or to yourself. You're finally together, Peyton. Let yourself be happy."

Peyton looks her in the eye, a lump in her throat forms as she struggles to curb her tears_. Damn hormones._ For the past several months she's been feeling agitated, worried—suspicious. The sight of Brooke has been making the hairs stand on end and the back of her neck prickle with an unknown emotion. For a long time, she couldn't pin point exactly what this foreign feeling was—until this morning. As soon as she woke up, the first thought that entered her mind was that this would be the last day before she finally marries the love of her life. The second was the suspicious behavior of her maid of honor and fiancé the past couple of months. They'd been avoiding each other like the plague, making up numerous excuses to not be in the same room together. As Peyton's mind swirled with reasons for their strange behavior, she realized what this new feeling was: insecurity.

"You and Lucas haven't spoken in a while," she comments, making sure her voice is void of any sign of her unease.

Brooke freezes, then a second later, she relaxes, a small smile plastered on her face. Peyton isn't sure if it's genuine. "We've just been busy, sweetie."

"We've all been busy. Yet Nathan and Haley still found ways to see him. And you didn't seem to have any trouble hanging out with _them_."

Brooke remains quiet, unsure of what to say. She feels terrible that her best friend feels suspicious so close to her wedding day. Brooke knows what that felt like; she can't let Peyton go through it.

"Is it about that night?" The blonde asks and Brooke tenses up again.

Peyton never mentioned 'that night' to her before. Brooke had figured that Lucas worked his magic and convinced her that it was nothing. _It **was** nothing_, she reminds herself. She looks up at her best friend, the girl she loves most in the entire world, and desperately tries to think of a way to handle the situation. This time, however, she can't seem to recompose herself.

She nods stiffly.

Peyton's heart quickens. She can already feel her palms sweat and her entire body heat with fear.

"Did something happen between you two?" She chokes out, not sure she wants to know the answer.

Brooke's eyes widen in shock. "No!" She rushes towards her friend and places two hands on her shoulders looking her directly in the eyes. "No, no, nothing like that, P. Sawyer, I promise. I would never do that to you, you _know_ that."

Peyton looks back into her eyes and nods. She _does_ know that. "Then what's going on, Brooke? Why are you two avoiding each other?"

Brooke sighs and lets her hands drop from her friend. "We ... fought. And..." She can't tell her the truth. "I said he was like Dan."

This time, it's Peyton's eyes that widen. "What? Why would you do that?"

Brooke bites the inside of her cheek. "Because ... because he was pushing for more information about that night and he just really pissed me off. I wanted to shut him up."

It's partially the truth.

Her best friend sighs. "B, I love you but you know how much it hurts Lucas to be compared to _him_."

The brunette nods, ashamed. It's _one_ of the reasons she's been avoiding him. She can't look him in the eye because of the shame she feels for comparing him to the man who killed his _real_ father.

"I know."

They stand in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, when Peyton decides to voice some of her fears. She's been avoiding this question for as long as she can remember, not wanting to deal with the consequences of what she suspects is going to be a positive answer.

"Do you ... love him?" As soon as she asks it, she wishes she could take it back. She shouldn't have opened this can of worms again. They're all finally happy—finally on the same side. She doesn't want to have to hurt her best friend again.

Brooke looks up at her in shock. Her breath hitches and her skin starts to redden with fear. What the hell should she say to that? _Tell her the truth_, her mind whispers. _Give her back some of that 'honesty' she used on you._ Brooke looks into Peyton's eyes. She sees the unease, the fear, and the pure desperation in them. She sees _herself_ in them. She remembers high school and the unbearable pain that came along with Peyton's confession; the pain that she nearly killed herself trying to hide. The pain that she kept from everyone, to the point where she'd even convinced herself she didn't love him anymore. Now is _not_ the time to go back on her plan. _But it's **so** exhausting to pretend._ They're older now and Peyton is getting married; and they're starting a family. _But the pain is still there_. She'd never want to put Peyton in that position. _She deserves it_. The insecurity and fear would tear her apart, like it did to Brooke all those years ago. _But Lucas says he loves **you**_. Lucas is an idiot.

"Of course not." She says with a smile, and Peyton's relieved face tells her that that was the right answer. "We haven't been together in over 5 years, Pey. And those 5 years, he spent pining over you." Peyton smiles slightly. "Why would you think that?"

The blonde shrugs. She's relieved of Brooke's answer but not entirely convinced.

"It's just that ... you spent so much time on this wedding." She hesitates in continuing, "And I thought, maybe that's because you want it to be _your_ wedding."

Brooke molds her face to a look of sympathy, successfully hiding the shock of hearing Peyton voice her most secret dream. A dream that Brooke refused to let even herself think about.

"Oh honey," she embraces the blonde in a tight hug. "Of course, I was going to freak out over every detail of this wedding. You're my Peyton and this is the most important day of your life." Brooke rubs her back, relieved that her best friend seems to be calming down. "And I couldn't exactly leave the details up to you. No offense, but I can't quite picture you spending hours mixing and matching colors of flowers and tablecloths."

Peyton laughs as she wipes her tears, feeling much better than she did five minutes ago and feeling silly for ever thinking there was a problem. She's glad she came to talk to her friend.

"Besides," Brooke catches her eyes again. "I spent just as much time on the Naley wedding years ago." She quirks her eyebrow, "Given your logic, I'm also secretly in love with Nathan." She pauses, "Or Haley."

Peyton laughs and hugs her friend. "I love you, B. Davis."

Brooke hugs her back. "Love you, too, P. Sawyer-soon-to-be-Scott."

**B&L**

_You make this all go away;  
You make it all go away;  
I'm down to just one thing:  
And I'm starting to scare myself._

Lucas stares at himself in the full length mirror of the closet in the groom's preparation room. He feels sluggish, still not believing he is about to do this. His arms are weak, feeling like lead, as he wears the over coat of his wedding suit. _His wedding._ The words sound hollow in his head. His previous wedding with Lindsey didn't exactly go as planned; and this time, a small part of him is hoping that this occasion is dealt the same fate. _I'm just like Dan._

And he hates himself for it. He hates himself because he knows he's doing the _right_ thing but that isn't enough to give him peace. He hates himself for having feelings for someone other than the mother of his child. He hates himself for these thoughts that he sees as— _knows are_—a betrayal to his baby. He already loves his child _so_ much and wants him or her to grow up in a loving, secure home. And ... he loves Peyton. _You. Love. Peyton._ He does. He wouldn't have chosen her that night at the airport otherwise. There must be _something_ there, something that keeps pushing him towards her—just like Brooke said.

_Brooke_. He's back to her again. It seems no matter how hard he tries, he can never escape her.

_Hero Complex_. That's how she'd described his feelings towards her. Maybe she's right. After all, the last time he was _in _love with Brooke Davis, the last time he felt _this_ intensely towards her, was years ago. He'd felt some more-than-platonic emotions for her the past year but he chalked that up to remnants of their time together. He knows he's always going to have some feelings for her but how could they suddenly resurface so forcefully? _It must just be the guilt_, he reasons. He's tried justifying it over these past two months, tried to reason through his confusion. Tried to understand his longing for her. But no matter how much he twists it around in his head, his heart just won't listen.

**_The heart has reasons that reason cannot know._**

Hadn't he said that once, to describe his feelings for Brooke? No one ever really understood their relationship. Heck, they didn't even understand it themselves. But it was real. _He_ was sure of that, at least. But ... after five years? _No, it doesn't make sense._ He takes a deep breath and pulls himself up, holding his posture straight and confident. These feelings had to be induced by his need to protect, his need to take care of those he loves.

He squints as he stares into the mirror. Hard. _I don't love Brooke_, he thinks_, I just want to save Brooke._ He straightens himself again and takes another deep breath, squinting harder_. I don't love Brooke, I just want to— _

He suddenly sags and all the air rushes out of him. He can't do this. It feels strange to even think of Brooke as someone who needs saving. It was never about that with her when they were together. He loved her bubbly, excitable presence without the tragedy he'd always romanticized as a child.

Still, he forces himself to accept this logic and goes on hating himself. He knows that these feelings—whatever their origin—will cause nothing but pain. Why does his love cause so much devastation to so many people? What is wrong with him?

The dressing room door creaks, a sign of someone entering the room, disrupting his session of self-loathing. He looks up into the mirror and his eyes meet a pair of hazel-green irises he hasn't seen in what feels like a lifetime. The same hazel-green eyes and brunette tresses that are the reason why he resents this day so much.

There is silence. Silence has been a common theme for them over the past several months. Brooke stands behind him, unable to tear her eyes away. She hasn't been able to stare into those blue depths for months and they still have the effect of drawing her in and making the world around her disappear.

"Peyton is ecstatic." She says to break the tension. Her voice is light and bubbly. It sounds like nails on a chalk board to her own ears. "I've never seen her so happy."

She trails off and they're once again engulfed in a deafening quiet, both fearing what they might say if they dare to speak. Lucas still hasn't turned to look at her directly. He keeps staring at her through the mirror, his eyes occasionally sliding down her body, drinking her in. Brooke doesn't mind. She just hopes to God he doesn't turn around. Right now, the mirror is a poor reflection of the reality. It acts like a protective shield—one that they both desperately needed to hold on to. The mirror is a barrier. The mirror is safe.

"A part of me..." He looks away from her and swallows his nervousness before meeting her eyes again—through the mirror. "A part of me still wants to stop this ... wants to just run away and start over with you."

"Lucas—"

"I know." He shakes his head. He doesn't want them to fight. "I'm just telling you how I feel."

Brooke remains quiet, mentally berating herself for putting them in this position. Even talking like this is wrong. She shouldn't have come.

"Peyton came by yesterday." She decides it's best to ignore his confession. She needs him to focus on his wife. "She's suspicious of us."

"Why would she be suspicious?" He glares at her. "There's _nothing_ going on."

"Of course there isn't." She says this with such conviction that it makes him cringe.

He looks away again, looking like he'd just been kicked in the gut."Then what is she suspicious about?"

"She was wondering why we were ignoring each other so much."

Lucas grunts but doesn't look at her. He wishes she would have just kept on ignoring him. He wishes she wouldn't have come. Her being this close, after so long without contact, he doesn't know if he'll be able to control himself. He grabs a tie and starts to distract himself.

"She asked me if I love you," she says suddenly, causing Lucas to halt his movements.

Goosebumps cover his entire body. He turns to her and Brooke's breath hitches in her throat. His eyes are wide and shocked, desperate and ... hopeful.

"What'd you say?" His voice shakes. He's terrified of her answer.

Brooke shrugs, trying to control herself from breaking. She wishes he'd look in the mirror again.

"I told her she was insane."

His heart nearly stops and the warm tingling disappears. He looks at her with obvious pain in his eyes, and she looks back at him. But her eyes are completely empty.

"Were you being serious or were you just manipulating her like you did before?"

She looks away and doesn't answer. Lucas sighs and lets his hands fall from where he was fiddling with his tie. He runs a hand over his tired face and looks at her. Leaning against the wall, her wedding attire in a bag sitting at her side, she looks _exhausted_.

"Why did you come, Brooke?"

"I don't..." Why _did_ she come? _Maybe you were hoping he'd convince you to run away?_ Brooke silences the voice in her head. Tears spring to her eyes as she looks up at him, pleading. "I don't want you to hate me."

Before he can think his actions through, Lucas walks towards her and embraces her in a tight hug.

She tenses at his touch but as he tightens his hold around her with his face buried in her neck, her body seems to melt into his by its own accord.

"Pretty girl," he whispers, making her shiver. "I could never hate you." He takes a deep, shaky breath. He loves this feeling: the feeling of being so close to her. "I love-"

"Don't."

He lifts his face from her neck and softly nuzzles the side of her head. She smells—_feels_ like heaven. He wants to kiss her.

"You can't help who you love, Brooke." He moves an inch and nuzzles her cheek. He's going to kiss her.

"No. But you can control what you do about it." Lucas freezes. She always knows how to ruin the moment. He huffs in frustration but doesn't let her go. He wishes she wasn't so damn stubborn. So loyal.

His heart aches. He loves her loyalty.

"Besides," she starts again after a moment. "You don't love me."

He sighs and moves away from her face, burying his nose into her hair. He's always loved the smell of lavender. "Right."

"You don't."

"Okay."

They stand there for a moment longer, feeling more at peace than they have in over two months. Lucas takes a deep breath, inhaling as much of her intoxicating aroma as he can, before he hastily lets go of her and turns around, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Brooke stands rooted to her spot, angry and more embarrassed than she's ever been. She reached for him. She hadn't meant to do it but as soon as he started pulling away, her arms shot towards him trying to keep him close before her brain caught up with her actions. She hates herself even more, knowing that he noticed. She watches him try to fix his tie. His whole body is turned away from her, and it's obvious that he's trying to ignore her presence.

Lucas fiddles with the tie for what seems like the hundredth time. _What is wrong with this damn thing?_ He can feel Brooke staring at him from behind. He wishes she would just leave. His heart beats painfully against his chest. He shouldn't feel this way. He's getting ready for his wedding—his _second_ one—with his fiancé—another blonde—and all he wants to do is run away with the brunette beauty standing so hesitantly behind him. Part of him wishes she would just leave. But the bigger part still just wants to kiss her. The tie gets tangled in a knot and Lucas growls in frustration before flinging it across the room.

Brooke sighs before she goes and picks up the abandoned accessory, making her way towards Lucas who is breathing raggedly. She softly turns him towards her and starts to do it up for him.

"You had to go all Broody right before the big ceremony, didn't you?" Her tone is light, playful. Lucas looks down at her in silence, eyes burning with desire. They're so close, he'd only have to swoop down an inch and he would have her again. Brooke concentrates on the task at hand, making a point not to look up.

"You know, once you see her walk down that aisle, I promise you, Luke, you're going to be the happiest man alive." She pauses and Lucas watches a frown form on her beautiful face. She takes a step back from him and tilts her head to the side, examining his attire.

"What idiot gave you this tie to wear?"

Lucas arches his eyebrow. "I did."

She huffs in frustration. "That figures."

He frowns and looks down at the dark olive green tie. "What's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't match!"

"Everything matches with black. _You_ told me that."

"Well, this looks like crap." She looks around for another tie. "Where the hell is your best man?"

"He ran out after Jamie."

"Of all the useless—" she stops herself and takes a deep breath, looking rattled. Lucas smiles in amusement.

"This isn't funny!"

"It's just a tie, Brooke."

She looks at him in shock. "It's your WEDDING SUIT!"

"Right. Sorry. Don't know what I was thinking."

"Okay, okay. This is okay. We just have to...stay calm. No need to panic."

Lucas gives her a dry look. One that clearly communicated the question, _who's panicking?_

"Let me just—" Her face lights up. _Idea! _She runs to her bag, still in the place she left it, and rummages through.

"Aha!" She pulls out a black bow tie and holds it over her head like a prize. Lucas chuckles at her excitement as she bounces back over to him.

"Here." She fixes it around his neck, giving it a pat once she's done it up. She pulls at and straightens out his collar, patting his chest a little more than she should. "And one more thing." She digs through her purse and pulls out a pair of gold cuff links, securing them to the sleeves of his shirt. "There. I knew they would come in handy." She smiles at her handiwork. "It's a good thing you're so predictable, Broody."

"It's a good thing you know me so well."

She meets his eyes and is taken aback by the intensity burning in them.

"I..." she sighs and calms herself down. Her body sags and Lucas knows the playful mood is over.

Before she can react, he leans down and kisses her forehead. His lips linger there for a moment before pulling away. Brooke's eyes flutter open and she meets his ocean blues once more. They stare at each other for a long time, so close but not touching, before she takes a step back.

"Make her happy, Lucas. And you be happy too, okay?" She tilts her head to the side, her features encouraging and soft. "You love her. You two wouldn't have gotten this far if you didn't. You'll remember that in a couple of hours."

Lucas nods slowly. She smiles at him—there are no dimples—and leaves.

~*~

She lied.

The sun is shining exceptionally bright as the wedding ceremony moves along. Brooke leads a glowing Peyton down the garden path towards him. Any man in his position would feel as though they were on cloud nine. He should be happier than he's ever been. Brooke should have been right. But despite the beauty, despite the happiness surrounding him, Lucas can't feel a thing. He's completely numb, which is a hell of a lot better than the confusion and hatred he's felt for what feels like a lifetime. After she'd left, there had been two separate occasions where he had to restrain himself from running after her and begging her to run away with him. He'd imagined showing up at her door step and whisking her away to wherever they can finally be together. But he resisted the urge. For his child and, despite the way he feels about Brooke, he'd never want to hurt Peyton. _She'd never allow it, anyway._ His eyes lock with hazel green, not caring if anyone notices, and she stares right back. Her smile grows brighter and even though he knows it's meant to be reassuring, he feels as though she's mocking him. How can she be so calm, so unfazed when he was ready to collapse? His heart breaks a little more when, once again, he realizes that Brooke never loved him as much as he loved her. Where he would wallow in self-pity for weeks on end whenever they broke up, she'd be on her next boy target the next morning. For her, he is so easy to get over, so easily forgotten. He's pathetic.

Peyton stands in front of him and the first thought that runs through his mind is how beautiful Brooke would look in this dress.

He can faintly recognize Haley's voice in the jumbled chaos of his mind. But a single shaky breath catches his attention and he realizes, suddenly, that Brooke is crying. Despite himself, his heart expands with pleasure. Maybe she does care? Maybe this is just as hard on her as it is on him? He tries to catch her eyes over Peyton's head but it's too difficult with his bride staring so intently at him. Even if he did manage to look, he knows he'd never catch Brooke's eyes—she won't even look up.

He concentrates as he tries to make out the expression on her face out of the corner of his eyes. Her head is bent low; her cheeks are overflowing with tears. She looks so broken, so vulnerable that Lucas immediately feels ashamed for hoping she would feel even an ounce of the pain he'd been feeling. He wants her to go back to not caring, back to being happy and bubbly and the Brooke Davis that he has always loved. He needs her to stop crying. Even if that means she doesn't love him as much or she's finally over him—he wants to go back.

Haley's voice suddenly booms across the garden.

"I believe in true love."

**_"You never really loved me, Luke."_**

"I believe in love at first sight."

**_"…nothing more than a footnote."_**

He shuts his eyes and inhales, deeply. That's all she believes they were. That's all he made her believe she was to him. It was he who made her think so little about herself; _his_ selfishness is what caused all the pain and insecurities that nearly destroyed her all those years ago. And now that selfishness is pushing her to believe the contrary, confusing her even more and making the pain he inflicted even worse.

Even after all these years, he still manages to hurt her. Even now, as a mature adult, as a soon to be father, he's still completely insensitive to her feelings. It never occurred to him to wonder why Brooke so vehemently held on to the notion that their love wasn't real. It never occurred to him that she'd resigned herself to this idea as a way for her to deal with the pain—to heal.

She _needs_ this. She needs to believe that they were a mistake so she can move on. She needs to believe that she was right, so that all the pain she went through—the pain he put her through—would all be worth it. She needs to believe that he and Peyton are happy so she can finally let herself be happy.

It's his turn to say the wedding vows. He looks into the eyes of his bride and knows what he has to do. She needs to believe it. He needs her to be happy.

"Peyton, I loved you from the moment I saw you." The quiet sobs almost immediately stop. He takes a deep breath and forges on. For his family, for himself. For Brooke. "And this ring is just a way to show the world what has been in my heart for as long as I've known you."

**B&L**

White. Everything is just so fucking white. Calm, bright, hopeful—a complete contrast to the gray of prison. If there is anything he's learned through this whole ordeal, it's that there isn't any other place in this world he hates more than these two locations and their corresponding hues. He and Brooke stand at the emergency room doors, looking in desperately as a team of surgeons and doctors work around to save his wife and unborn child.

"I'm sorry," he says suddenly.

Brooke turns her head to the side, her eyes never leaving the commotion in the ER. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry about before." He's not really. But seeing his wife and child in the state they are in is tugging at his guilt. He can't believe he even _thought_ of leaving them.

She shakes her head and turns to him, placing gentle hands on his shoulders in understanding. "It's okay." He looks up into her eyes. They're soft and warm, a testament of the mature woman she has become. "You were just scared. You were worried about losing Peyton and the baby and you tried to run from it. But you don't have to worry." She glances into the operating room, her eyes are hopeful. "Peyton will pull through this, just you watch." She gives him a faint smile; he's still searching her eyes. "You made the right choice."

He grits his jaw and frowns at her. "Brooke." His voice is weary. "That doesn't even make sense."

She blinks and pulls back in surprise, watching him turn away and shake his head in wonder.

"Luke, come on, of course it does. Your wedding with Lindsey didn't exactly go as planned. It's understandable that you'd pull away from Peyton before you could get hurt again."

He shakes his head in frustration but doesn't answer. Inside, he feels like screaming—at her _and_ at himself. He realizes he is the one that made her feel like this. Like a tool, a pawn that's used and discarded whenever it benefits him. He did this to her and no matter what he says or does, he can never fix it.

"Well, whatever the reason, I _am_ sorry."

He hears her sigh. "Okay."

He looks down at her and for the first time all day takes note of her black dress. Although she's still beautiful, he never thought the color black suited her. She told him that herself, once. He wonders why she chose such a color for her bridesmaid dress.

"And thank you." He says after a short silence.

She turns to him and smiles. "For what?"

"For not making your dress red."

**B&L**

_Everywhere I look, you're all I see._

It's been three months since Sawyer Brooke Scott was born. Lucas can't remember the last time he was so happy. Already, this little bundle of joy is his entire life. He doesn't know how he's lived all these years without her. She is his light, his joy, his very reason for getting up in the morning. She and her little baby girl blue eyes that match his and that button nose of her mother's. Looking up at her as she giggles in his outstretched arms, he marvels at how much she's grown in the short time she's graced this world. She's absolutely, undeniably perfect.

"Wanna go out for a walk baby girl?" He coos up at the gurgling beauty in his arms and laughs when she lets out a shriek of delight as he swoops her up and down. "I thought that'd make you happy." He smiles as he sets her in her carriage and walks off to his favorite place in the whole world.

~*~

A lot has changed since his high school days. In those days, his beloved river court was a sanctuary for him and his closest friends to gather and hide from the world that would not accept them and couldn't understand them. Now, it's a hot spot for everyone in the town. News that the legendary Lucas Scott had learned his technique on these grounds traveled across the town like wild fire, resulting in every group – cool, jock, nerds – hanging out in hopes of realizing their own dreams. When he first returned to Tree Hill, it annoyed him more than anything but now, he doesn't mind. He looks down at his child with adoration. He could be in the middle of an arctic ice storm and he would be happy as long as he had his angel with him. He frowns at the thought. Or maybe he'd freak out that his three month old was sure to catch pneumonia or worse.

"You cold, baby girl?" He asks worriedly as he crouches over to tug the blanket over her further. It's a sunny day in the middle of August, there are no clouds in sight and no breeze can be felt. But Lucas decides to bundle her up—just in case.

"This is your dad's favorite place in the whole world." He reaches down and tickles her belly, smiling widely at her soft giggle. "One day, I'll be teaching you free throws on this very court." He looks up and takes a deep breath, looking around at the babbling teenagers as they engage in their evening activities. His eyes trace over a group playing football in the far corner, a small 4 on 4 basketball game taking place in the middle of the court, with their friends cheering and laughing along with them. A flash of short brunette locks catches his eyes and his breath hitches.

He hasn't seen her in over a week. Ever since Sawyer was born, he's seen her at least once every day and he's managed to act civil when around her. He is proud of himself for being able to finally make the right choice and remain loyal to his family. He hasn't felt the need to be with her ever since Sawyer was born. But as he watches her from his side of the court, something tugs at his heart. There's something … different in her demeanor. She's relaxed, she's happy, she's giggling … she's Brooke. _When was the last time she giggled?_ He wonders. He can't seem to remember the last time she looked this happy. His smile drops as he realizes that he hasn't seen her laugh this genuinely in over a year. Even though he's been seeing so much of her these past few months, she's always so formal around him, always reserved. This Brooke, the real Brooke, she's different. _His_ Brooke is different. Lucas frowns. He hasn't thought of her as his Brooke in a very long time.

He looks at the shorter brunette sitting beside her on the bench, and recognizes the girl as Sam, who last he heard had moved out after finding her birth mother. Brooke pulls the laughing Sam off the bench and starts twirling around like the carefree spirit she is and to his amazement, Sam joins in. He remembers the way Sam was when she first came into Brooke's life. She was detached, angry, depressed, hurt, and lonely. Now, she is ... full of life, charismatic, confident...hopeful. A tiny smile lights up his face as his eyes turn back to the woman who has held and broken his heart for so long. She did that for Sam … just as she did for him. A warm feeling takes over his body and he can't remember the last time he's felt so at peace.

"Gwerpa!"

He looks down at his newborn, who's flailing her arms widely trying to catch his attention. And just as quickly as that warm feeling surfaced, a cold rush of reality hits him like a brick. _What is he doing?_ Why is he thinking about his ex when he finally has the family he's always wanted?

Shaking his head—and hating himself again—Lucas turns and rushes back home.

~*~

He enters his childhood house and is met with the bubbling laughter of his new wife. Involuntarily, he compares her laughter to the way Brooke _used_ to laugh. It's not as bubbly and infectious as the brunettes, but it's uplifting in its own way. He frowns. _When did they switch personalities?_

"Hey babes." She smiles and gives him a peck on the mouth before taking Sawyer from her carriage and carrying her over to the couch.

"Hello little princess. How are you? Mommy missed you so much, she did." She coos lovingly to her child, her pride and joy. "Did you have fun with your daddy today? I bet you did."

Lucas watches them in silence for a moment. Sawyer reaches up and grabs a lock of her mother's hair, her eyes staring up in awe at the woman caring for her. And once again, he feels shame and guilt take over his very being. He needs to stop this. He needs to move on with his life and focus all his love and attention to his family. Peyton and Sawyer are the loves of his life. _This_ is his future.

"Let's get out of here," he says suddenly.

Peyton frowns. "Did we have plans tonight?" She asks, getting off the couch and moving to put Sawyer in her carriage.

"No, I mean, let's get out of Tree Hill."

Her eyes widen. "Wh-what?"

"We can go anywhere you want." He knows he sounds like he's begging but he realizes now that he needs to do this.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "I just ... I want to start our life fresh, you know? Start from the beginning without all the baggage that comes with this town."

She's silent for a moment, eyeing him in a way that makes him sweat with the fear that she might suspect his true reasons for leaving. Peyton looks down at her baby girl in the seat and a moment later, she looks up at him with a small smile on her face.

"Where would we go?"

He shrugs. "I don't know." He looks at Sawyer. "Charleston?"

**B&L**

"Peyton and I are leaving." Brooke Davis whips around at the familiar voice that suddenly boomed through her small clothing store. A nervous Lucas Scott stands at the door, the morning sun shining on his back, creating a halo effect. She frowns as his words sink in and cocks her head to the side in confusion.

"Tree Hill." He answers her silent question.

She gawks at him. "Wh-What?!"

He shrugs. "We want to start our lives somewhere else." He sounds confident enough, even convincing, but the fact that he can't seem to meet her eyes says more than he needs to.

The brunette stands rooted to her spot, shocked and at a total loss of what to say, how to react. _How can they just leave?_ Peyton hadn't told her anything about leaving before. How long have they been planning this? She meets his eyes and can't stop the tears from springing in her own. She wants to ask him so much but she seems to have lost her ability to formulate a sentence.

Noticing her tears, Lucas shuffles uncomfortably in his spot, mentally coaching himself that this is the best thing to do. He takes a deep breath and suddenly—wordlessly—hands her a stack of papers.

"It started out as a diary." He says awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets. The tension between them could be cut with a knife. "I wasn't that good back then, but..." He looks up and meets her eyes one last time. His heart breaks at the confusion he sees in them. He wishes he could make it better for her, for all of them. But…he's so tired.

"I told you it was edited, Brooke." His voice sounds strained and defeated. He stares at her for a long time, waiting to see what she would say—or if she would even react. When it's clear that the most she's going to do is sport the doe-eyed, hurt look on her face, he decides to leave before he changes his mind.

Brooke watches him leave the store, unable to make sense of what just transpired. She can't believe this. Not only did the love of her life marry her best friend and have the baby she'd always wanted but now, they're just … leaving? What about her friendship with Peyton? Would that be over again just like after high school? What about Sawyer, who she started to love as much as she'd love her own daughter? Would she ever see her again?

Would she ever see him again?

"Lucas wait!" She jumps from her position behind the counter and runs to him. "Lucas!"

Hearing her voice, he turns around just in time to catch her as she flings herself into his arms. He hesitates but within a moment, molds into her, burying his face in her flowing hair.

"We'll keep in touch, right?" She sounds so scared, so vulnerable.

Lucas hesitates. "I don't know if I can, Brooke," he says honestly and his heart breaks when she lets out a gut-wrenching sob.

They stay like that for a long time, both holding on as tight as they can. Neither willing to be the first to let go. Brooke's sobs slowly subside after a time and Lucas can hear her sniffles reduce as the moments tick past, until her breathing is calmed against his body and her arms relax around his neck. Knowing that he won't be able to leave if she breaks down again, he hesitantly pushes back from her embrace and looks down at her, smiling at her smudged make up. _She's still breathtaking_.

They stare at each other, both expecting the other one to say something. Both unable to do so. Sighing, he drops his arms from her shoulders and slowly walks away, retreating to return to his home and out of her life forever.

After a couple of steps, he turns back. "You know, Brooke, if you keep trying to look for reasons not to be with someone, you'll always find them. Even if they aren't really there." He's silent again, waiting for a reaction to his comment.

Instead of responding, the brunette busies herself with wiping away her makeup, pretending she didn't hear him.

He sighs, dejected. "I hope you find happiness, Pretty Girl." He says this so softly that she barely hears it. It's as though the wind carried the words over to her. Her face softens and even though it breaks her heart, she knows she'll be okay. _I've moved on, now._

"Maybe one day I'll find my comet, huh?" She sends him a smile and receives a sad one in return before he walks away again. This time, he doesn't turn back.

~*~

Brooke enters the store and leans back on the door. Her lips tremble with the threat of an oncoming break down but she takes a deep breath to compose herself, turning the 'We're Closed' sign around so she won't be disturbed. She can't work today. She turns around and her eyes catch a stack of papers on the ground. It's the paper Lucas handed to her before he walked away. She must have dropped it as she ran after him. She picks it up from the ground and reads the title. _A Scott's Life_ is sprawled across the front page. Brooke realizes with a start that this is Lucas' first attempt at his autobiographical novel. She reads the printed date—February 26th, 2007. Two week before they broke up.

**_"Didn't you miss me while you were away?"_**

**_"Everyday."_**

Taking a deep breath, she flips through the pages and finds a highlighted section that catches her attention. She sits down before reading, somehow knowing that she would need support for the words Lucas wanted her to see. She reads the section once, then again, then three times, until she's lost count. By now, she doesn't need to read anymore. Every single word is etched in her memory, forever taunting her; intensifying the pain to the point where she can't see clearly anymore.

She sobs. A gut wrenching, tired wail that holds all of the years of pain, heartache, devastation, and fear she's ever experienced. She can't control it; it spills over her, drowning her in a sea of despair and longing and wishful thinking. She wants to go back. She wants to go back and stop herself from making the biggest mistake of her life—the one she will now always have to live with.

"Brooke?" She looks up to find Haley standing in the middle of her store. Her friend's eyes are wide and filled with worry, never having seen the once-declared Prom Queen turned fashion diva in such a rattled state. Haley takes wide steps and crosses the floor but stops a few feet away when Brooke suddenly jumps up from her seat and retreats away from the worried mother. She holds the document tightly to her chest. No one will read it. It's hers and Lucas's and no one will touch it.

"What's wrong?" the shorter brunette asks, worry evident in her tone.

Brooke tries to calm down but she can't curb the flow of tears running through her tired eyes. She puts the document in her desk, awkwardly—her hands are shaking—and looks up at her one time roommate.

"I—" she sobs again, knowing that though Haley wants to know what was wrong, she'd never want to hear the truth.

"I miss Julian."

~*~

_'If I told you that I loved you, would you hold it against me?' _

_Her frail body lay almost limp beside me; much of her energy was draining the more the blood spilled around her. She looked so tired, so scared and sounded **so** broken. And yet … I wanted to tell her that she was mistaken; that I wasn't Jake and that there was no way she'd meant it. It was in that moment, when I struggled to find the words to gently knock her back into reality, that she'd done the unthinkable. She kissed me. It was short and hesitant and packed with the world's emotion. I was too stunned to pull back, too stunned to even respond to the kiss. So stunned that I just sat there and stared at her. All I could think was, how am I going to tell Brooke? Should I tell her? How will she react? I'd closed my eyes and thought back to her terrified figure. The way she reached her arms towards me as she was pulled into the bus; the fear, the pain, the desperation. I wanted nothing more than to run back and embrace her._

_I was calm throughout the entire ordeal. Knowing that she was safe; confident that she was away from danger and that no matter what happened here, now, she would be alright. She was protected from it all. And whether I should thank God or Karma or even just Whitey for pulling her onto that bus, I would give them my utmost gratitude for saving her from this._

_I looked at Peyton, the girl who I had spent my childhood days dreaming would be my girlfriend; the girl who I would have given anything to be with, and **did** give everything to be with, only to realize I wanted what I had all along: Brooke. The girl—woman, that pulled me out of my darkness and taught me how to love life; how to see the happiness that I was so blinded to before. The hazel-green eyes and dimples whose faith in me made me believe in hope and beauty and my ability to do all that I wanted. She was like my own personal shooting star; bright and passionate, granting of all my wishes. _

_A part of me was angry at Peyton for putting me in the position again but I couldn't bring myself to blame her in the state she was in. Looking at her, I was once again comforted by the fact that Brooke wasn't here to experience this. That's when I knew—I couldn't tell her. This … nightmare, this horror would never touch my Pretty Girl. Peyton's hazy confession would go unnoticed, for all our benefit. _

_I'm not stupid. I knew that Peyton's confession was sincere. _

_"I love you, Peyton. But there is this girl, you might know her—her name is Brooke. And I'm completely in love with her." _

_She'd smiled, then. Her face was brave; it betrayed none of the sadness that I'm sure she felt. And it pains me to know that I hurt her, that I must once again deny her feelings for me. But I had to do it. It was impossible not to. Even with everything that was happening around us: the pain, the confusion and fear that came along with Jimmy's shooting, Peyton's kiss provided me with a moment of clarity: I am now and always will be, in love with Brooke Davis. The conviction I felt—I still feel—of this fact was unlike anything I've ever been sure about in my life. This is the woman I will spend the rest of my life with. This is my family._

_I think it's over now. I've finally made my decision._

_It feels so damn good to say that._

~*~

_I just want something,  
I just want something,  
I can never have._

**_- Fin -_**

Look for a sequel "two" parter- Rewind (song title by Stereophonics) {in another 3ish months}


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